


The Past Tense Of Love

by indigomini



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe Where Gay Marriage Is Just A Thing Already In South Korea, Alternate Universe Where South Korean Divorces Work This Way, Alternate Universe Where Surrogacy Is Also Just A Thing In South Korea, Angst, Exes, I guess I did, I wrote this before The Boys too who knew it'd be a superhero summer, I wrote this way before the supergroup thing was announced but please don't blame me, M/M, Oh and before the Superhuman song too just for good measure, Superheroes, Teleportation, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-07-22 18:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigomini/pseuds/indigomini
Summary: Love doesn't last forever. Would've been nice if someone had told Jongin that sooner, before getting married, before having a kid. Divorce reveals the ugliest side of someone you once loved, blinding you to all of their other facets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Everlasting #15  
>  **Warnings:** n/a (see tags)  
>  **Author’s note:** This fic is such a mess. Thank you to my beta for ever so patiently holding my hand and dragging me all the way to the finish line despite my whining and crying. Thank you to the mods for hosting another round and being so understanding as I kept prolonging my extensions. Thank you for the prompter for your prompt and the beautiful song recommendation (I'm Not Here by Me + T). Thank you for reading. This was a very difficult story to tell, and all I can do now is hope that I told it well. <3
> 
>   
> Thank you so much to [starsooncheeks](https://twitter.com/starsooncheeks) for accepting my commission. This turned out so much better than I could've hoped. Can you see all the details? It's absolutely gorgeous. It makes me so happy.

Some time ago, Jongin came across a line about how the space between the nucleus of an atom and its electrons is like a fly in the center of a massive stadium and the tiny gnats circling the outside perimeter. It had something to do with the idea that humans (and everything else) were made up of mostly 99.99999% empty space.

We’re just a collection of atoms and their voids, moving at random. And yet even when standing in place, humans are hurtling at sixteen hundred kilometers an hour, just obliviously existing and breathing, paying taxes, having sex, watching cat videos, avoiding replying to emails, …minding our own damn business. Mindlessly wandering along until we collide with some other blithering idiot full of voids, racing about beautifully at their own sixteen hundred kilometers per hour, the impact so violent that it entangles our lives with theirs, all of that empty space too enticing of free real estate, so that each touch, each smile, each fluttering heartbeat is an irreversibly vicious scar.

The mind is a funny thing. Supposedly, every moment of one’s life is permanently etched into one’s brain. Even with a piss-poor memory, it’s all still up in there. Seven billion fatally flawed Rolodexes; or to align it with more updated tech: bioengineered, solid state hard drives, however one wants to view it. Every transgression we ever made, all of our faults and glories, our little bits of cleverness, our confessions, our misanalyses, our first loves, our first friend, our first fall. Our banal musings, minor betrayals, and life-changing, confidence-shattering compromises. It’s all there. Scars and burnt ends and repression and rewrites and filters. Too much for us to process fully and still balance sanity. It’s what we, as a species, have developed in order to evolve: cowardice, our very first line of self-defense.

He is running late. In retrospect, maybe Jongin should have just taken the shortcut, but his ego demanded he experience every meter toward freedom for today. The muggy, pissing rain is entirely the wrong atmosphere for his mood. It is unfortunate that the weather insists on being emo. His shiny new convertible will have to arrive at the lawyer’s office with the top pragmatically closed. That will deflate his carefully impassive presentation somewhat, but it feels like a sauna outside, reeking of dog shit and gasoline. Better to enter the courtroom fresh and fashionably late than soaked and stale.

Glancing over at the plain manila envelope in the passenger seat, Jongin sighs to himself. Today is a day for celebration. He feels victorious, empowered even, despite what the weather may insist. He will soon be _free_ of all of this drama. He will no longer need to tolerate any more of this incessant, exhausting bullshit. All of this fighting and passive-aggressive texting and silence, and fuck this red light, he is _definitely_ late now, and he’ll never hear the end of it—

Except he will. Because this is the end.

These are his last official moments as a married man. It calls for celebration. The raindrops around the edges of the windshield, out of range of the wipers, create a kind of Christmasy bokeh effect with the traffic lights. He’ll never put himself through this foolishness again, weighing himself down with someone else’s baggage and complete obliviousness and needy-needy- _neediness._

A smug thrill runs through him as he races through downtown Seoul, imagining himself signing the final document and looking up. Kyungsoo’s face will fill with regret and shock as it finally, finally sinks in just what he had asked for, what he had done, what he had brought to their family. What they could have had. And now what they will never have.

Maybe a rebound fuck is in order. To celebrate victory. He’s got options.

Lights are flashing, and it barely registers to Jongin that the irritating background sound he's hearing is not some questionable post-production effects to the song he’s blaring, but rather, very real tires squealing, the scent of burnt rubber finally reaching his nostrils as he turns and sees a bright red truck barreling toward him at sixteen hundred and seventy kilometers an hour, the glass shattering into millions of tiny green safety squares, the front pillar of his car crumpling, and then everything, everything goes to black.

—

“I— I’m not sure.”

“You either know what year it is, or you don’t, dearie,” the nurse chides.

Suppressing annoyance, Jongin purses his lips and shakes his head, fingers pressing into the plastic card. “I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Perhaps that tugged at some sympathetic heart strings. The nurse’s voice softens as she tells him the year, the month, the date, telling him again that he has been out for the past two days.

Some quick mental math tells him that this body is thirty years old. Is that right? That seems so old.

The tinnitus starts again. She had explained that it would likely fade away over the next day or so, and isn’t pressing. Right now, the ringing in his ears grows increasingly loud, so much so that it’s difficult to follow as she explains the importance of keeping his dressings dry. He feels like he’s been run through a washing machine, covered in scrapes and tender all over. If he tries to focus, he can see distorted, nonsense bits of the car accident, as if viewing it from the outside, like a movie, but it causes searing pain in his temples every time, and leaves a lingering ache for minutes afterward.

The nurse must have caught on that he’s run out of attention, and sighs, telling the other nurse to let his family in.

His family…

The door opens and a man steps into the room, carrying a small child — a little girl — in his arms. _Kyungsoo_ , Jongin realizes, once his eyes focus enough to sharpen his husband’s features. The wine red hair is in need of a cut and its roots are nearly half of its length. His clothes make Jongin smile out of reflex: black tee, black sweats, black shoes. A couple minutes ago, he didn’t know his own name, but Kyungsoo’s clothes bring him some sense of comfort and familiarity. He looks so handsome, and Jongin sighs in relief as he approaches.

It is only when Jongin can make out the tired eyes and tenseness of his mouth that he shifts his focus to the girl. She seems a bit too old to be held, and Kyungsoo is forced to arch back more with each step to support her weight. The little girl is staring at him, doll-like eyes wide with concern as she twists around to face him better, hands tightly clutching an action figure nearly a third of her height. He stares back, wondering why Kyungsoo would bring her in to visit.

Arriving at Jongin’s bedside, Kyungsoo grunts with effort and shifts her to his hip. With their faces side by side, Jongin can guess at some similarities in their features. He can’t remember any of Kyungsoo’s family, but perhaps she is a cousin or something.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

The girl is still looking straight at him. He must have misheard. But before he can respond, she is pouring herself out of Kyungsoo's arms, onto the bed, and curling into Jongin's side, her miniature limbs casually draping over him.

“Careful, baby,” Kyungsoo chides gently, his voice hoarse. He pets over her hair, rearranging errant strands away from her face. “Watch his leg.”

She squeezes Jongin's waist tighter, resting her action figure across his stomach, her little voice muffled against his sleeve, “I _know_ , appa,” she insists.

Jongin finally remembers how to move his jaw, closing it shut carefully. “K-Kyungsoo?”

The look on Kyungsoo's face sends ice down his spine. His eyes widen minutely, brows lifting in a mildly surprised expression. And then he turns his attention to the nurse, expectant, as if Jongin were just some oddity he noticed and needed to validate through another source.

“Oh, that's precious,” the woman smiles, and then nods approvingly. She looks to Jongin. “And here, we were worried because you lost all of your memories, but you still remember your family. That's so sweet.”

His family. “She is… our…” Thankfully, the question trails off, before he can utter it out loud, where this child can hear. Thi— _His_ child. _Their_ child. Kyungsoo studies him, reads the question marks emitting from his face, and turns back to the nurse, pointedly looking down at the little girl and back.

She gets it. He can see the exact moment it dawns on her. Her smile falters, and her eyes shift into pity, with just a dash of judgement. “Oh,” the nurse whispers. “Ah. Well. As we have explained, the doctor said to wait a few days for things to slowly come back. It was quite a bad accident. It was a miracle enough that you survived. Give it time.”

Kyungsoo clears his throat and looks back to him, raising his brows, silently demanding Jongin's attention. “Joohyunnie,” he says slowly, enunciating while they maintain eye contact, “let's say goodnight and go home so we can let daddy rest. He's still hurt, sweetie.”

“I don't wanna go home,” retorts the girl, a high whine in her voice that is so similar to Jongin's, it's uncanny. “We never see daddy anymore. I want to stay here and take care of him. I promise I will do a good job.”

Kyungsoo sighs, looking away to hide his frown. It's a long, tired exhale. He takes a few breaths and tries again, petting a hand down her arm. “We can't stay, Joojoo. We gotta take care of the puppies, remember?” It is so jarring to see this performance, this faux, softened cheeriness coming from his precious husband.

Her grip tightens defiantly. “Daddy, I want to stay with you,” she insists, stubbornly gripping him tighter.

After an awkward pause, Jongin carefully hugs an arm over her. He glances toward Kyungsoo as he cups the side of her head, feeling the downy softness of her hair. She lays against him so naturally, so confidently. There's no doubt that it's true. And yet he can't remember her at all. Or anything or anyone else for that matter, as he had told the doctors mere moments before. Before Kyungsoo walked in. A part of him feels terribly guilty. “Joohyunnie,” he tests slowly. The way the consonants fit and roll across his tongue feels familiar. The weight bears down a little harder. He has a daughter. He married the love of his life. He’s otherwise minimally damaged after what he was told was a nightmarish car accident. “Joohyunnie, aren't you tired? It's very late.”

She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head stubbornly. “I'm not s'eepy.”

“You have school tomorrow, sweetheart,” reminds Kyungsoo.

“No.”

_“Joojoo.”_

“Appa, I want daddy to move back home with us. _Please._ He’s hurt, appa.”

_Move… back… home?_

Kyungsoo exhales, mouth tightening. His eyes are sunken, dark, drained. He shakes his head. “Daddy needs to stay here tonight, anyway, Joojoo. They need to make sure he’s okay. You still have school tomorrow. We need to go home and get you ready for bed.”

“But—”

“If we get home and you go right to sleep, we’ll come back to visit when you get out of school,” Kyungsoo tries to make the offer sound enticing, but his exhaustion deflates the statement entirely. He’s not able to humor her anymore though, and his eyes fill with resolve. “Let’s go, Joojoo.”

Jongin should follow along. He knows that. There is a kid here, and apparently, it’s their kid, and he should go along with this, and ask questions later, but everything about this feels wrong, like he woke up in some alternate dimension where Kyungsoo can look at him this way. “Soo?” he asks, searching his husband’s face for some sign of affection. Even worry would be a relief right now. Instead, Kyungsoo turns to him, and his beautiful eyes convey… nothing. Nothing beyond exhaustion, his brows lifting again in question and annoyance. It causes something to grip Jongin’s heart so tightly that it aches.

“What is it,” Kyungsoo eventually prompts.

“Where… do I live then?”

“Your new apartment’s not far from here,” Kyungsoo mutters, a very loud ‘obviously’ tacked on in the empty silence that follows. He scoops Joohyun up before she can protest more, and gestures for her to bid him farewell. “We can drive you over there tomorrow if you’re ready to be discharged by then.”

And then the love of his life gathers up their daughter, and turns around to walk straight out of the room. He didn’t even glance back once.

—

“How do you not remember where you put your _suit!_ ” Junmyeon sounds so irritated as he hisses the question out, eyes darting to the doorway to see if Kyungsoo has returned.

“I don’t even remember who _you_ are,” Jongin reminds him snippily as he sits down on Joohyun’s small bed, grabbing one of her dolls and laying it in his lap. Kyungsoo had introduced the man earlier as Jongin’s co-worker. However, the moment they were left alone, Junmyeon hands him a replacement cell phone and tells him he’s actually Jongin’s mentor, and Jongin is so irresponsible for not contacting him to inform him that Jongin would be unavailable to work. As if he just went on an impromptu holiday and not a horrific car accident and a weekend-long coma.

Junmyeon releases a heavy, put-upon sigh and cradles his head dramatically. “I can’t have Kai out of commission this week! The Stan has been stirring up all kinds of shit over by the river, and Xiumin has good intel that Anti is about to resurface. You know they’d latch right onto Kai’s disappearance. I need more than just a shoestring Elementals team!”

It is surreal to hear the names that Junmyeon lists off. He has been tasked with keeping Joohyun entertained, fed, and kept out of trouble while Kyungsoo catches up on work, holed up in his office for hours. As a result, he’s been updated on all of Joohyun’s current hobbies and interests. Superheroes are her favorite. Most notably Kai, as evident in all of the Kai figurines and stickers and dolls she has scattered around her room. He looks down in his lap at the plush doll, clothed in a dramatic wine red suit with black piping for details.

Kai is a powerful teleporter in the Superhuman Multitude (aka ‘SM’ for short). He’s able to go anywhere in the world instantaneously.

And Kai is… Jongin. Jongin is Kai. As Junmyeon not-so-patiently tells him, he is who Jongin has been playing for the past decade of his life. And his family has had no idea.

Junmyeon loads up payroll and sick leave documents on his iPad for Jongin to sign and reiterates that his official alibi is assistant manager of a dummy factory. It matches with Kyungsoo’s rather terse initial summary that Jongin is a salary worker in some office on one of the shadier sides of town.

Kai…

“Just please… go by your apartment as soon as you can. I’ll check the dorms. Report back if the suit is there and safely hidden away.” Junmyeon sweeps a hand around the room, “Should be pretty obvious what it looks like.” He sighs, “This is such a huge freaking deal, I still can’t believe you didn’t think to report this to me.”

“Sorry my amnesia compromised our security protocols.” The sarcasm just slid off his tongue, surprising him. Junmyeon merely rolls his eyes, neither surprised nor amused. He pats Jongin’s shoulder. “Get better. But please, get back to work soon. _Please_.”

—

“What are you doing in here?”

Jongin’s hand hovers a centimeter above the sketchbook, and he jerks it back at the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice. He had wandered into Kyungsoo’s office, and thought looking around might jog his memory, might offer some clues as to why everything felt so off.

“I—” The words don’t come out, though. Why does it feel so hard to talk to his husband? “I was just looking.”

Kyungsoo lets out an annoyed sigh, his eyelids fluttering instead of closing fully. _Very_ annoyed. “Can you call and get a referral to a Suncheon doctor? I can drive you to your family tomorrow.”

The doctor had ordered Jongin to stay at their apartment, insisting that being around the one person in his memory might spark something and break the amnesia fog. It’s only been a day, and Kyungsoo hasn’t been taking it well. He just doesn’t understand why though. Jongin swallows, glancing down once again at Kyungsoo’s left hand, baffled by how there isn’t a dent or tan line or _anything_ on his ring finger. “...But you’re my family.”

“I’m not.”

His sinuses swell, and Jongin distracts himself by looking around the room again. Kyungsoo is an illustrator. He remembered that too, at least. The walls feature some of Kyungsoo’s favorite projects. He does a lot of work for a board game company owned by one of their friends, which allows him to work from home most of the time.

A splash of red catches Jongin’s attention. Kai, part of a collage with half a dozen others, in Kyungsoo’s signature style. Something stirs in his mind: This was the only merchandise project Kyungsoo ever accepted. The strand of thought floats away again, almost as swiftly as it appeared.

“Soo—”

That was a mistake, grabbing Kyungsoo’s hand. Something wrenches in his chest as Kyungsoo wrenches his hand out of grasp, as if Jongin’s touch is scalding, scarring. Tears form in his eyes. Jongin can only force an apologetic look, holding his hands up in defeat as he steps back before his emotions overwhelm him and his hands move to shield his face. He is so confused. This feels all wrong.

Kai. Allegedly, he is a teleporter. Maybe something happened. Maybe he teleported into some alternate dimension where Kyungsoo hates him.

“What is it.”

Kyungsoo and his dead voice, full of cold apathy, derision, exhaustion. Toward him. A choking sound garbles out of Jongin’s throat, and he makes himself look back up at his husband—no, his ex-husband, as he has been repeatedly corrected.

“This _has_ to be a mistake,” Jongin insists. It hurts so much.

“What are you talking about?”

“How do you— What did I even _do_?” Jongin sniffles, wiping at snot and tears, feeling pathetic and lonely and afraid. He wants nothing more than to just burrow himself into Kyungsoo’s embrace, to seek comfort from this confusing wave, this broken reality where it's almost like Kyungsoo thinks he's lying about having forgotten all of his memories. Or rather, not even that Jongin could be lying, but that it simply shouldn’t be Kyungsoo's problem.

“What time’s your appointment tomorrow?”

Jongin blinks, stunned at how resolute Kyungsoo can sound. He’s so cold, as if Jongin were nothing more than a stranger. An inconvenient stranger. “...8:30,” he mumbles.

Kyungsoo sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “So I’ll wake Joohyun up tomorrow, get her ready for daycare, and we’ll all leave at 7:30. It should be enough time to get to your doc.”

His lip quivers. Soo doesn’t care at all. Jongin can feel all of these feelings and be so lost and none of that means anything to him. It’s not that he doesn’t know. Anyone walking by would be able to clearly see that Jongin is in distress. He just doesn’t care. His Kyungsoo doesn’t give two fucks about him.

“Just try to relax. It was a bad accident.” Only once he’s done does Kyungsoo look up to see if Jongin was paying attention.

“Why won’t you just tell me what I did wrong?” It’s hard to get the sentence out. He stumbles over the words, sniffling and gasping. He’ll beg. It doesn’t bother him at all to beg. “ _Please_ , just let me fix this. I don’t even know what I _did_ , Soo!”

He watches a nerve throb on Kyungsoo’s forehead. It’s terrifying, already being so lost and confused, and to see such contempt form in the face of the only person he can remember.

“Do we really need to talk about this right now? It won’t even matter. You should recover in a couple of days. I’m really tired, Jongin,” Kyungsoo finally speaks, after visibly constraining his frustrations.

“I _love_ you—”

“You don’t,” Kyungsoo cuts him off immediately, a harsh bite he couldn’t suppress in time. “We’re _divorced_. You’ll remember that soon.” He sighs, rubbing his eyelids roughly. “Please just… _behave_ until your appointment tomorrow. I’m sure the doc can set you up with a psychologist or something. I’ll drop you off at your apartment so you can get different clothes, but I can’t do this. I have a ton of work to take care of. Please ask for a referral.”

—

_“How was your flight?”_

_All the air is squeezed from his lungs as Jongin catches his boyfriend and spins them around in a circle, mindless of the other people trying to navigate through the massive airport parking lot._

_“Not that bad. I slept.” He feels guilty. For lying, for subjecting Kyungsoo to a twelve hour flight from Seoul to Los Angeles when they could’ve both gotten there in half a second, and for free, even. If only he could tell Kyungsoo the truth about what he’s been doing lately. But that would only endanger them both, putting Kyungsoo at risk with no means to defend himself if any villain tried to go after Kai and those important to him._

_“I’m still so jet-lagged,” Kyungsoo whines, burrowing against him as they load themselves into the taxi. He had arrived yesterday, flying in budget economy so they could afford a better hotel for their mini holiday in the States. Jongin knows. He had popped over to check on how Kyungsoo was doing, and had to immediately flee before he could get caught. Who knew Kyungsoo would still be up at 3 a.m.?_

_“We should stay at the hotel for a bit,” Jongin whispers suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows for effect. “To… nap.”_

_His boyfriend scrunches his face up in amusement. “Don’t feel like napping...”_

_“No?” Jongin asks, feigning innocence, careful to keep his voice low enough to avoid their driver’s ears. “What about… fucking?”_

_Kyungsoo snickers, mini brays like a tickled donkey, alternating between covering his mouth and swatting at Jongin. “You’re gonna probably just pass out when we get back anyway, stud muffin.”_

Jongin gasps as the rest of the memory plays through with perfect clarity. Memory is a strange thing. He remembers not just the actual events, but the full perspective as well. His moods during their vacation. His thought processes and feelings. His naivety and inexperience compared to even the blankness of present time. They must have been in their late teens then, or very, very early 20s.

He remembers fumbling for answers when Kyungsoo asked how he snuck a 5-fluid ounce bottle of sex lubricant past TSA in his hastily packed carry-on, sheer panic in his mind at the prospect of both having his secret identity revealed and losing the chance to bang his hot boyfriend as Kyungsoo lamented about having to abandon his favorite toothpaste. Neither happened, of course. Kyungsoo was easy enough to distract, and ready enough to entice. Not at all like today.

Jongin swallows, reliving the memory, feeling equal parts arousal at remembering their coupling and bitterness as he looks around the empty apartment and realizes he is once again all alone.

On the plus side, he found his supersuit. It was right here in his closet. It gave him a reason to text Junmyeon, who seemed relieved enough to be chatty and sympathetic for a few minutes before excusing himself to do some hero business.

It was right there in his closet though. Why would he be so irresponsible and just leave the suit in an unlocked closet? This part puzzles him endlessly. Joohyun could have been exploring and would have stumbled right into it. Unless before the accident, Joohyun never even visited him in his apartment. How long has he been living here? The place is nearly barebones vacant. Maybe he had just moved…

Kyungsoo had dropped him off on the pretense of letting him collect fresh clothes while Kyungsoo ran errands. Anything to just get away from him for a few hours after three days didn’t miraculously restore his memory. The few hours has turned into an entire day now, after rain delayed his return, and then Joojoo’s night routine, etc. The last time they spoke, Kyungsoo had asked for him to just please stay put for the weekend. It hurts seeing Kyungsoo go through all of this work just to avoid him.

He wants to text Kyungsoo to ask about the timeline. Or just any other excuse he can think of to text his… ex. Maybe he could ask if Kyungsoo remembers their trip to L.A., going on a huge tourist excursion and having sex in the hotel pool later that night.

No, that would be wildly inappropriate. Plus, that would mean having to get back on his phone and opening the chat window again. According to Junmyeon, the new phone is a perfect restore of his destroyed one. Jongin had forced himself to read through months of their chat history last night, hoping for clues and disparities. Unfortunately, while it’s one thing to see Kyungsoo’s disdain. It’s another thing entirely to see his own:

 _ **j** **oojoo’s appa:** you’re late_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** are you picking her up or not_

 _tonights not good for me_  
_tomorrow_  
_please tell her_

 _ **joojoo’s appa:** are you fucking kidding me_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** you promised her you were going to see a movie tonight_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** tell her yourself, she’s already packed_

 _i’m busy_  
_don’t make me into the bad guy again_  
_we can’t all work from home and have all the time in the world_

_**joojoo’s appa:** she hasn’t seen you in weeks_

_which works out for you doesn’t it?_  
_more fuel to turn my own kid against me_

  
_**joojoo’s appa:** believe what you want_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** i would rather my kid be happy_

_sure doesn’t seem like you just ‘“rather your kid be happy” when you’re telling her shitty things about her dad_

_**joojoo’s appa:** i told you i’m not talking to you when you’re like this_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** i’ll let her know you’ll pick her up tomorrow_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** bye_

 _whatever_  
_try not to make this all about you again_

That was the last real conversation they had. It was nestled between a lot of terse code. ‘Here’ or ‘coming in 5’ or things along that empty line. No further texts. A lot of their older conversations are confusing without proper context, and Jongin had to give up trying to parse meaning from them. Once again, the thought resurfaces that maybe he had teleported into some twisted, alternate reality. This can’t be his life. There’s no way he could have ever looked at Kyungsoo and thought and spoke so callously.

There’s… no way Kyungsoo could look at him the way he does either, and yet…

Reluctantly, Jongin goes back to scan the date of the fight. Two weeks before his accident. Two whole weeks where they must have either fought in person or not talked at all. Going by how Kyungsoo treated him, it seems more likely they didn’t speak.

_can i see you?_

Jongin hits ‘Send’ before he can second guess himself. Already, he feels tears welling in his eyes, weighing down his lashes. This won’t get a good answer. Too rash. Too needy.

_**joojoo’s appa:** you can see joohyun on monday if you want to pick her up from school_

He waits, but nothing else comes through.

 _please soo_  
_I miss you so much_  
_I can’t remember anything_

 _ **joojoo’s appa:** i’m going to sleep_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** let me know by sunday afternoon_

It’s surprising his fingers don’t get frostbitten from such a cold response. Jongin frowns, letting the phone slip out of his grasp and sulks around the small apartment. No decorations, a haphazard mound of unopened mail on the kitchen counter, a hamper full of sweats and tees, moldy food in the fridge, and a drawer full of takeout condiments and plastic silverware. This was his life before the crash?

There isn’t even a TV. He has internet, though. Eventually, he grows bored enough to return to his phone. Searches for ‘Kai’ pull up quite a number of his notable rescues and feats. There are even compilations on YouTube of his more epic battles, closeups of the red suit, trying to make out features of his face from underneath the dark cowl.

His heart still aches. Some masochistic part of him takes the helm, and eventually, Jongin is back in their chat window, revisiting the conversations. Or lack thereof. He must have done something _awful_. That's the tone he gets from Kyungsoo, that Jongin must have done something so irreversibly terrible, so unforgivable, that he is now on the other side of the wall, forever denied reentry into Kyungsoo's heart.

And from the sounds of it, Jongin lived in denial of it. Could he have… cheated on Kyungsoo? He came across some interview clips where he was rather friendly to some others at SM, some rescued civilians, etc. Could he have…

That doesn't feel right. He couldn't have—

"You're being so _mean_ to Daddy!" Joohyun shouts, her little voice snarling into a vicious growl.

The static sizzles down his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Jongin's toes sink into the low pile rug. He blinks, confused at the sudden shift.

"Joojoo…" Kyungsoo starts, weariness already weighing down his voice.

"He got so hurt," she sobs, "and you wouldn't even let him stay with us! The doctor said you had to!"

He really just teleported. Into their apartment. Jongin stretches his fingers out, feeling the last of the tingles fade away. A part of him had even doubted that he _had_ any super ability to begin with, and that this was all some strange prank or experiment. It wasn’t a conscious thing, and he has no idea which muscle he even flexed to make it happen. How the hell is he supposed to get back? What could he even say if Kyungsoo caught him here right now? ‘I’m not stalking, I just missed you so much that I magically appeared.’

That wouldn’t go over well. He can hear footsteps approaching on the wooden floor. Backpeddling swiftly into the hallway, Jongin darts into their bedroom, squeezing his eyes shut and praying that he can summon his powers again. The footsteps advance, and he nearly dives into the en suite bathroom, cowering behind the door.

Kyungsoo trudges into the room, dragging his feet and then crashing into the mattress, landing flat on his face and releasing a quiet “oof” as he hits the sheets. He is motionless for nearly half a minute before rolling over, staring into the ceiling as he roots around in his pocket and pulls his phone out, letting it rest on his chest, a contemplative look on his face.

Jongin feels so drawn to him. He wants to just step out and walk forward. Kyungsoo looks lost - almost as lost as Jongin feels. This is still his husband, at least _to him_. Can’t he beg Kyungsoo to forgive him of whatever egregious thing he had done and let him offer comfort?

Except he had somehow teleported here. He wouldn’t even know where to start explaining things. He really needs to get back.

Okay. Breathe. He’s a fucking superhero. That’s confirmed now. He can do this.

_Home. Zap._

Nope. Still in the bathroom.

Kyungsoo has his phone out now and is scrolling up and down, eyes shining as he focuses on the screen.

His phone - Jongin’s phone - buzzes in his pocket, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest as he looks back up. Kyungsoo’s head snaps to him in an instant, eyes squinting toward the bathroom.

_Shit. Please, oh please, no._

After a long stare, Kyungsoo swallows and looks away, huffing out a dry laugh and wiping at his face. Only then does Jongin see that his hand comes away wet, his eyes red. He had been crying.

Now, more than ever, he wants to just run to Kyungsoo. Maybe he could—

His phone buzzes a couple more times, and once again Kyungsoo turns to the bathroom door, his frown replaced by a confused look. Only he doesn’t look away, and instead, stands up and walks closer, sniffling and wiping at the remaining tears on his face.

_Crap, crap, crap._

Jongin’s ears pop, and the temperature raises a few degrees. He exhales lavender scented air and inhales a stale replacement. His eyes refocus. He’s back in his shitty, spartan apartment. Jongin blows out a relieved sigh, rubbing his arms to dissipate the static feeling.

 **_yeol:_ ** _hey you up???  
**yeol:** basketball???_

Nothing registers, and Jongin sneers at the messages before backing out into the main window. He has another text from just a few minutes before:

 **_joojoo’s appa:_ ** _i never asked what the doc said about the amnesia_

Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo had texted this to him. Kyungsoo had thought of him after he tucked Joojoo in for bed, after he went to his own room and cried his eyes out. Jongin rereads it, thoroughly lost on trying to ferret out reason as to why texting _that_ to Jongin was the outcome. It’s not even a question. But it _is_ communication, and initiated by Kyungsoo. He wouldn’t dare ask for more.

 _he said everything looked good_  
_so to just be patient and wait for things to come back basically_  
_why?_

_**joojoo’s appa:** you don’t remember anything?_

_i remember you_  
_and us_

_**joojoo’s appa:** everything?_

_what do you mean?_  
_I remember us going to america for vacation_  
_everything i remember is us being happy together_  
_do you not remember?_

_**joojoo’s appa:** my memory’s not as selective, jongin_

_would it help if i apologized?_  
_please tell me what i did wrong at least_  
_I will beg for forgiveness_

 _ **joojoo’s appa:** don’t_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** this is temporary_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** you’ll recover everything soon_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** and you won’t feel this way when you remember_

 _what am i supposed to remember?_  
_how would that change how i feel?_  
_I LOVE YOU_

_**joojoo’s appa:** you don’t_

_you keep saying that_  
_what am i feeling then, soo?_  
_do you really not love me anymore?_  
_all i know is i woke up from a coma from some shit awful car accident, and the man i love wants nothing to do with me and won’t even tell me why do i not deserve to know?_  
_you keep saying i don’t love you, but I CAN FEEL IT_  
_does that not matter???_  
_does it not matter what i actually feel??_

He is getting too emotional and had rambled for too much, but he can’t stop the outpour. It has been a nightmare ever since he woke up, and nothing makes sense.

 _ **joojoo’s appa:** jongin, what do you want from me_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** what am I supposed to do right now_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** we’re not together_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** you don’t love me anymore_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** this isn’t a mistake or a single fight_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** what am i supposed to do, am i supposed to entertain you and pretend we’re some happy family and get joo’s hopes up that we can be like this? or am i supposed to itemize every painful thing that broke us up so i can relive it all again? and for what? for both of us to feel bad about it or play make believe or whatever else until you get all your memories back in a few days and remember that you don’t care about me and leave so i have to pick up the pieces of our family all over again?_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** do i not matter too?_  
_**joojoo’s appa:** i’ve been trying to move on for 2 years. do you think this is easy for me? you think i don’t feel guilty as fuck for trying to be the reasonable adult and protect what's left of our family?_

_do you still love me?_

It’s been five minutes, and still no response. Jongin keeps having to unlock his phone to turn the screen back on from continued inactivity. A whimper leaves his throat, and tears burn his eyes. That was more in a few text messages than Kyungsoo has said to him in total since he woke up. It’s angry and hurt, and he gets that, but does this mean no? Kyungsoo doesn’t love him anymore? Any hope he has drains away with each passing minute.

It doesn’t matter if this is the wrong timeline. He’s still here now. And he’s all on his own.

—

_Seoul has just shy of 10 million residents, so as a rule of probability, Jongin rarely encounters his husband when he’s out on patrol. Mostly, also, because he doesn’t shit where he eats, and Jongin typically patrols around Itaewon and Pusan as opposed to their overpriced, more homogenous neighborhood. Today, however, he’s just dropped Anti off at the police station when he recognized a gorgeously familiar face in the applauding crowd behind the barricades._

_Kyungsoo blushes as he approaches. His ears are bright red. Confirmation. Jongin knew it, he_ knew _Kyungsoo had a crush on Kai. It must have been why Kyungsoo had picked up that merchandising contract for SM in the first place when Kyungsoo has only ever designed original board games for his company. He worked on the Kai character first, too, and poured weeks into crafting his design and background before basically copying and pasting it over to the other pieces, too embarrassed in his fanboying madness to even let Jongin see what he was working on until it was all over. Trust his husband to make him look good even when he’s clueless._

_"Cabbages?" Jongin's voice disguiser’s metallic twang isn’t enough to shield his amusement as he skims the contents of the receipt Kyungsoo furnished for him to sign._

_“I-I was at that grocery store,” Kyungsoo’s face is beet red now as he gestures defensively toward the intersection, “when people were talking about the fight. And that Anti got apprehended, and then there—there was a crowd out here when I finished paying, so I just… stopped by.”_

_Jongin turns around exaggeratedly, scanning over the crowds of fans with their banners and official merchandise. He smirks, “So you’re not a fan?”_

_Kyungsoo’s shy smiles always knocks Jongin down at the knees. He can almost feel himself buckling as he watches his oblivious husband crumble. Kyungsoo, who swears he’s never had a crush on anyone, celebrity or otherwise. Who always insists indifference at beautiful actors and idols. The guileless way Kyungsoo’s lips curve up, gums exposed, it’s just too much. “I’m a fan,” Kyungsoo confesses quietly._

_He has to remind himself to not pay too much attention, lest he draw undue attention to Kyungsoo. Another few autographs, and he waves at the crowd, bowing repeatedly before he teleports to the roof of a nearby building, away from curious eyes. Some of them linger, hoping for more superheroes to arrive, but the majority disperse immediately, Kyungsoo included. Jongin teleports to another rooftop, tracking his husband as he navigates through the streets._

_Kyungsoo walks so cutely, trying to make himself even smaller to avoid bumping into other people. He keeps his head low, bags tucked into his sides. Just how far away did he park?_

_Jongin debates texting him right now, teasing him further with the whole Kai crush thing. In his periphery, he sees some quick motions, and turns his attention toward it: a white scooter, darting recklessly in and out of lanes. Jongin scowls, and then feels adrenaline spike as the scooter blatantly ignores a red light just as Kyungsoo, head down, steps onto the pedestrian crossing, right into its trajectory._

_His skin sizzles at the double jump, the air in his lungs turning to ash at having to react so quickly. Jongin gasps, barely able to stand upright as spots flood his vision. He is squeezing Kyungsoo too tightly, but his body hasn’t yet processed that the danger is over. They’re a very safe distance away, on another rooftop, high up and isolated. They’re safe. His husband is safe._

_Eventually though, he loosens his grasp, holding Kyungsoo by his elbows, still flush against Jongin’s body. He had daydreamed about moments like this, of course, in moments of boredom, but the reality is very different from fantasy. Swallowing repeatedly to get the bitter taste out of his mouth, Jongin can feel sweat dripping down his neck at the exertion, the panic only starting to recede._

_“Oh my god!” Kyungsoo exhales in a rush, eyes wide in alarm, shopping bag falling at his side._

_Jongin feels an inexplicable urge to reprimand him. To chide him with ‘pay attention to where you’re going!’ To swat his head or shake him a little, at least. Instead, as his breathing finally steadies, Jongin looks him over and decides that he is perfectly fine. Not a hair out of place. Jongin’s saved dozens of people from getting run over in the streets. This isn’t anything new. It normally doesn’t even faze him. But it’s_ Kyungsoo _, not just some stranger, and—_

 _And actually, danger over now, Kyungsoo looks_ damn _fine indeed, with his chest heaving, his lips all red, his—_

_“You know roads tend to have cars on them, right?” Faceplant. It sounded flirtier in his head. Jongin internally groans at himself. All those fantasies, wasted._

_“It was a scooter,” Kyungsoo retorts, barely above a whisper. His eyes have frozen in this alarmed position, it seems, and it’s so fucking adorable that he hasn’t realized it yet._

_“I think that scooter could’ve still destroyed your poor cabbages.”_

_At their mention, Kyungsoo blinks a few times and looks down at his feet, at aforementioned vegetables having rolled out of his bag. He looks back up at Jongin’s mask, blinks again, as if it’s finally dawned on him who is standing before him. “Well, I’m really grateful you saved my produce. That would’ve… really ruined my dinner plans tonight.”_

_“Just doin’ my job,” Jongin grins._

_They both seem to simultaneously realize he’s still holding onto Kyungsoo’s elbows. His husband inhales and sucks his bottom lip in, denting the plush skin with his teeth._

_Jongin’s hands adjust, slipping from Kyungsoo’s arms right into his waist, fingers squeezing him minutely closer. This is definitely something right out of his fantasies, watching Kyungsoo’s pupils dilate, his eyes growing intense and hooded as he stares straight at Jongin, as if he can see right through the mask and into Jongin’s soul, the way he always has._

_In his fantasies of moments like this, he’d peel off the mask, reveal himself as Jongin, and they’d make love on some mountain top with him halfway out of his super suit, like some sort of badly themed porno._

_In reality, Kyungsoo’s lips are shaping themselves into a pucker, tongue darting out just enough to wet them, to make them glisten._

_“Thank you for saving me,” his husband says, “Mr. Kai…”_

_Something itches in the back of his skull at Kyungsoo’s words. This isn’t him seducing his husband right now. This is Kai, saving a civilian. This is Kai who needs to get on with his patrolling. Who needs to remain anonymous to everyone, and can most definitely not reveal himself and endanger his beloved Kyungsoo. So fucking careless._

_Kyungsoo’s reaction isn’t out of the ordinary. It’s common for civilians to get starstruck or swoony. It’s both normal and kind of shocking that Kyungsoo would react that way, both because Jongin is intimately familiar with this side of Kyungsoo, and that he is definitely supposed to just be a stranger right now. It triggers something that Jongin slowly accepts as jealousy._

_Jealous at himself. For a moment, he’s tempted to see how much he can push before Kyungsoo stops him, but more pressing than jealousy is fear. Fear that Kyungsoo would let Kai, a total stranger, go just as far as he’d like. What then?_

_Is he willing to test his husband's fidelity? What does that say about_ himself _?_

_“You’re welcome,” he says. “Where are you parked? I can bring you to your car.”_

_Kyungsoo smiles, and its warmth leaves Jongin momentarily stunned. It’s such a familiar look, one he never thought Kyungsoo doled out so haphazardly. Kyungsoo interlocks his fingers, twisting his wedding band as he mumbles out the location of the parking garage. He presses himself flush against Jongin, gripping him in fear once they’ve teleported to there._

_“Sorry, I guess I should’ve given you a warning,” Jongin says apologetically, realizing that as his husband fell into his embrace, he had also greedily, reflexively, wrapped his own arms tighter around him. He is released slowly as Kyungsoo takes an easy step back, marveling at their new location, reaching over in wonder to touch the passenger door of his own car._

_Kyungsoo shivers, full body, and rubs up and down his arms to dissipate the lingering static._

_“That was so weird,” he remarks._

_Jongin chuckles, cringing at the robotic sound effect his voice takes on. “Oh!” he suddenly remembers, now that they’re a safer distance apart. “Your groceries!”_

_Kyungsoo’s eyes widen as Jongin returns from the rooftop, bag in hand. Somehow, he can still be impressed at Jongin’s powers even after experiencing them first hand. How cute._

_“Thank you,” Kyungsoo repeats, accepting the bag and looking up at him again._

_“Be careful, okay?”_

_“You too.”_

The memory returns to him in the form of a dream. An all-too-vivid dream that leaves Jongin restless and frustrated as he wakes too abruptly, grasping at the wispy threads of the moment. The rest of that day comes to him soon enough, once he’s bumbled his way to the kitchen and tossed back some yogurt for sustenance. Kyungsoo had brought up his encounter with Kai at dinner that night. Eagerly, he recalls. When Jongin had teased that his crush is showing, his husband was all too willing to admit it, as if challenging him to make anything of a fanboy crush, shocking him once more.

They never fought over it. Not really. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but Jongin can feel the truth in it. They didn’t fight over Kai, but it had seeped into other conversations, other grievances and underlying resentments. That feels so silly in present day, to be jealous of himself while simultaneously so thrilled that Kyungsoo was attracted to his alter ego.

 **_joojoo’s appa:_ ** _are you up yet_

_yes_

Funny how getting a text from Kyungsoo is all he needs these days to get his heart racing. Typing just a single word answer is enough to make him into a ball of nerves. It feels as if he’s single again, crushing on someone, anxiously, eagerly responding in hopes they’ll pay attention to him some more.

...Oh, but he _is_ single again. And definitely… yeah, all of those feelings.

It’s been a few days since they had that… fight? Would that be considered a fight? But ever since, Kyungsoo has… ‘softened’ would be the wrong word for it, but while refusing to discuss the issue further, he has been… kinder. He volunteers to drive Jongin to his appointments and invites him to outings with Joohyun. Not as much as Jongin would like, but just enough that he can’t stew in his misery for too long. Kyungsoo’s definitely still keeping him at bay, but at least… acknowledging that Jongin isn’t trying to be malicious.

Could he though? Could he really wake up one day, regain all of his memories, and feel… nothing toward Kyungsoo? It really doesn’t seem possible.

Junmyeon has put him on mandatory leave until all of his memories are back, citing a liability risk. He mentioned something about SM holding a press conference in a few days, although it sounded more like they were hoping Jongin would be back to normal by then, making it unnecessary.

Unable to work, Jongin has been able to spend a lot more time with Joohyun. It has the side benefit of making Kyungsoo a lot more relaxed, since that frees up a lot more time for him to work. It’s a very strange experience, hanging out with his child. Nothing about it feels familiar, and yet, his heart wants to burst from every minute spent with her. She clearly adores him. At least he hasn’t fucked that up yet.

Today, he will be taking her to a classmate’s birthday party, and Kyungsoo has spent all morning nearly giddy at the prospect of not having to attend. At least in a semicircular way, he’s able to make Kyungsoo happy.

“Why aren’t we recording today?” Joohyun asks as she carefully tries to flip the onion pancakes over.

“Because we just record sometimes, sweetie,” Kyungsoo answers patiently. “And we’ve gotta hurry so I can drop you and Daddy off at the party.”

“But Daddy is here today, and I want to cook with Daddy too so we can watch it later.”

Kyungsoo casts him a sidelong glance, as if asking for him to weigh in on this, or to side with him. “Maybe next time, okay? We have to see if Daddy wants to do it too. _Also_ , we’re trying to hurry.”

Joojoo had mentioned something about a YouTube channel where Kyungsoo had been compiling their family cooking sessions for the past few years. He had pulled it up and subscribed earlier, but he has been chasing after Joohyun all morning. He makes a mental note to pore over the dozens of videos tonight.

“Can I wear my Kai shirt to the party, Appa?”

Jongin suppresses a smile. Whatever else is wrong with this timeline, he’s still literally his daughter’s hero.

Kyungsoo leans down so he can butt his forehead gently against hers. “It’s in the dryer, O’ Impatient One. It’ll be done quicker if you eat fast, ay?”

“Can we dye your hair again this weekend, Appa?” Joohyun begs, hands clasped theatrically before her, eyes wide as she pouts for added effect. “ _Ple-e-ease_?”

“Little girl, at the rate you want new colors, I’m gonna end up bald.”

“I want pink though! You _promised!_ ”

“Eat quickly, and we’ll see!”

Kyungsoo still doesn’t trust him to take Joohyun alone, so they all pile into Kyungsoo’s car. On the way there, he and Joohyun engage in a heated negotiation over Kyungsoo’s future hair color and style. It’s fascinating to watch, so much so that Jongin doesn’t mind being left out to observe them. This is the Soo he knows, the one that lives in his memories and dreams. Fiery, sassy, and witty. Something clenches in his chest as he twists his head to look back at Joohyun, wearing the same mischievous expression on her face. It’s a strange, lonely feeling, spying on the two of them and their private bit of happiness.

“I’ll come rescue you in two hours. I’ll text when I leave the house, ‘kay?” Kyungsoo says, glancing Jongin’s way to make sure he’s listening.

That sounded almost playful. ‘Rescue.’ Jongin gives him a small smile and nods. Please, please let him back in.

“Playing mom today too?” a gruff voice greets him as they enter the house. Jongin turns to the man in confusion, and then surveys the rest of the group: they’re all women, presumably moms, except for the two of them. Ah.

“Um,” he flounders awkwardly, wondering how much of his personal life to unleash on some random stranger. “Well. Uh. No mom.” Wait, the guy could read that as him being a widow or something. “Just. J—uh. Just me and my husband.” Ex-husband. But the guy definitely didn’t need to know _those_ details.

“Oh.” The man looks just as confused as Jongin as he digests the information. "Oh, so you _are_ the mom then."

"No," Jongin says slowly, "I'm her… dad…"

"Aww yeah, cool!" the man smiles, holding up his hand for a high five.

What is happening… Jongin holds up his own, giving a clipped wave goodbye instead of making physical contact, and shuffles quickly to a different room.

"Joojoo! You're here!" another male voice exclaims, and loud footsteps approach.

"Hi, Uncle Baekhyun," greets Joohyun, bowing a little and offering the man a shy smile.

"Where's your dad?" the man says, looking around eagerly. “I haven’t seen him in weeks!”

She points up at Jongin, hopping lightly on the balls of her feet. "Can I go play with Taeyong, Daddy?"

"He's in the backyard," Baekhyun gestures toward the door as he gives Jongin a puzzled once over. 

"Should I—" Jongin side shuffles and places the gift bag onto the kitchen counter alongside the other presents. "Uh. Here. Hi."

" _Hiii_ …" The man is squinting as he continues to overtly study Jongin. "Uh. Hi. I’m Baekhyun. I’m Taeyong’s dad. Uh. You must be, ah…"

He should probably introduce himself—

"—Kyungsoo's ex-husband! Sorry. I'm bad with names. A-ha, I don't think we've ever met.”

Ouch? He tries to keep from bristling too visibly. “Jongin,” he supplies, swallowing his pride and trying to stay focused. “I’m Jongin.” This is his daughter’s best friend’s dad. He’s gotta play nice.

“Oh! She looks _just_ like you,” Baekhyun offers, beaming warmly. He’s fidgeting with his hands, clasping them back and forth as he studies Jongin. “Ahh… Is something wrong with Kyungsoo?”

“...No?”

“Oh. Um.” The man purses his thin lips, frowning. A range of emotions flitters across his eyes, and he takes a deep inhale and pastes a smile on. “Well, it’s really nice to finally meet you.”

Would it be acceptable to recycle the other guy’s question and ask where Taeyong’s mom is? It would reassure him at least. Fuck awkwardness. He opts to keep his mouth shut instead, making a weak attempt at small talk for a couple more sentences before breathing a massive sigh of relief when Baekhyun excuses himself to check on the other guests.

Talking to the moms isn’t that much better either. Somehow, Jongin’s attracted a couple of them despite his efforts to ignore them and focus on Joohyun darting around and pretending to teleport. They keep gathering in roaming packs to try and corner him for more chatter that somehow involves feeling on his biceps.

“ _—just checking on you, Kyung-ja,”_ he overhears Baekhyun say as Jongin enters the kitchen. The other dad is huddled behind the refrigerator, phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder. “Joojoo’s having a blast, of course. They’re in the backyard right now. Taeyong has been missing her so much. He keeps asking to hang out. Do you wanna take them to the dog park this weekend?”

He knew it. He _knew_ this fucker was into Kyungsoo. Jongin clears his throat, feeling a jolt of joy as Baekhyun nearly leaps into the ceiling in surprise, spinning around guiltily and sputtering.

That speaks volumes. If he wasn’t busy trying to look cool and intimidating, Jongin would be dancing a celebratory jig of relief right now. It’s only an interest. Or at least that’s what he can tell himself to keep his sanity. Please, not anything more than that. He’s already somehow on Kyungsoo’s bad side, and had just started getting the faintest glimmer of hope.

“Oh _hey_ , ahh… Jongin!” Baekhyun says effusively, smiling _way_ too broadly. He’s clenching his jaw so tightly that it produces a little whistling sound between his teeth as he breathes. “Um. What’s up?”

A muffled, _‘Jongin? Let me talk to him please,’_ emanates from the phone, and the two of them make brief eye contact, before Baekhyun hands his phone over.

A part of him would _love_ to flex with a _‘hey babe’_ or something similar, but there’s zero chance Kyungsoo would let that fly. He nods and mouths a silent ‘ _thank you_ ’ before going with a soft, “Hey, hyung.”

“Everything going okay?”

“Yeah.” A covert glance at Baekhyun shows he’s straining to catch scraps of their conversation. “They’re battling right now. It’s pretty epic. I took pictures, but I’ll show you later at home. I figured you’d be busy. How’s work going along?”

“It’s good. Um. I don’t want to hog Baek’s phone, so I’ll let you go. Just wanted to make sure things were okay.”

“Things are great. I’ll see you in a bit.” He can’t keep the smugness out of his smile as he hands the phone back. It’s something. “Thanks.”

—

_“Are you kidding me,” he hears Kyungsoo mutter from the hallway._

_Jongin holds up a finger and turns to look at his husband, a smirk on his lips as he dips a hand into the bathwater, scooping just enough to splash Kyungsoo when he reaches the doorway._

_His husband does not look amused. Rather, his annoyance only grows stormier as he wipes the water drops from his face. “Why is she still in the bath. I asked you to just rinse her off and wash her hair, and that was like an hour ago.” His voice is so humorless that it prickles Jongin in an instant. He was just bathing their daughter, as requested, to give Kyungsoo a break from having to entertain a toddler all day long. Jongin hasn’t spent much time with either of them lately. Too much criminal activity requiring superhuman intervention, so he was merely doing his fatherly duties by goofing around with her for a bit, blowing bubbles and splashing and whatnot. Not to mention this was Kyungsoo’s job to begin with, and Jongin was just being helpful._

_“We’re conducting a science experiment,” says Jongin, keeping his voice cool, disaffected even, as if he doesn’t even notice Kyungsoo’s attitude. “We’re counting to see how many squeezes of water Mr. Quack-Quack can hold.”_

_Kyungsoo lets out a loud sigh, feeling the need to display his annoyance and have it acknowledged. He gives Joohyun a forced, weak smile when she squeaks one of the water toys at him and reaches over to grab her towel, motioning for her to get out. Bath time over._

_Fifteen minutes later, a rather thunderous Kyungsoo approaches him and turns the TV off._

_“What’s up?” Jongin offers, going for neutral instead of aggressive._

_“You_ know _what’s up,” Kyungsoo accuses. “You’ve thrown her whole schedule off. She was supposed to be asleep an hour ago. She won’t get enough sleep now, so she’ll be cranky in the morning, and too wired by lunch to take a nap, which means I won’t be able to get any work done tomorrow.”_

_“Am I just not supposed to spend time with our kid then?"_

_"You know that's not what I meant, Jongin—"_

_When did the sassy, sexy spitfire he married turn into such an irritable, short-fused grinch? They've been fighting so much recently, over stupid shit like this. He understands that Kyungsoo has been under a lot of stress with his project deadlines looming, but it feels like this is all they do now: petty fights interspersed too infrequently with makeup sex. It's annoying and draining. This isn't what marriage is supposed to be. And Kyungsoo has no fucking clue the weight of responsibility that rests on Jongin's shoulders. He is literally here to save the world. The least Kyungsoo can do is to not make life so irritating outside of work too._

_—_

“You look like you could use a drink.” Kyungsoo, on the other hand, looks positively gleeful as he saunters up, the two little poodles in tow.

“She kept coming up with excuses to put off sleeping,” Jongin laments quietly, afraid that anything above a whisper can awaken the tiny terror on the other side of the door. He eyes the dogs. Huchu and Meokmool have only added fuel to the fire. “She asked for water, so I got her water. And then she wanted to negotiate for another book. And then ask about the schedule for tomorrow. And like a billion other things. I thought being hyper for the whole _day_ would tire her out, but oh my god, that was like an hour to put her to sleep.”

“Yeah, you can use a drink,” Kyungsoo laughs, swatting his bicep. “Come on.”

They walk together into the kitchen, where Kyungsoo pulls a plastic bottle out of the refrigerator, breaks a safety seal, and pours a milky liquid into two glasses. He hands one to Jongin and walks into the living room with the other, glancing over his shoulder to see if Jongin is following. He’s been in the best mood since they came back from the party. _Beyond_ nice. _This_ is the Kyungsoo that Jongin knows. He’s still in there. 

Mentally crossing his fingers, Jongin takes the seat next to Kyungsoo on the couch, disguising his nerves by taking a sip. He flinches and turns to Kyungsoo. “...What is this?”

“Ahh…” Kyungsoo swallows a larger gulp of the fizzy, sugary drink. “Chestnut flavored makgeolli.” He casts a sideways glance at Jongin. “Not your style?”

“It tastes like a cheap thing from the grocery store.”

Another swig. “It’s not _bad_ ,” Kyungsoo argues, his voice taking on a teasing, musical note. “And it _is_ a cheap thing from the grocery store. It’s not like I can take her to the liquor aisle with me. I just grabbed something from the clearance bin on the outskirts.”

“This is like the candy shit we used to drink when we were teenagers.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “You remember that?”

“Like, bits here and there,” he shrugs, sagging into the cushions. Especially when it comes to Kyungsoo, but it would be awkward to mention it now.

After a long silence, Kyungsoo brings a foot up to rest on the edge of the coffee table. “Thank you, by the way,” he says, leaning in a little. “I got a lot of work done today. I really appreciated it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He turns toward Kyungsoo. “I’m her parent too.”

“Well,” Kyungsoo hesitates, “you wouldn’t have gone. Before the accident. Obviously, you were busy working back then, but it still means a lot to me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t really like going to parties.”

“What, and _I_ like hanging out at toddler birthday parties for hours of my day just so our kid doesn’t become a social pariah?”

That’s a good point. A really good point. He didn’t even think of that. “I’m sorry.”

Kyungsoo finishes nearly half of his drink before turning to him. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I promise,” he says hastily. “I was… just trying to thank you.”

Well, he's not wrong.

“Anyway,” Kyungsoo continues hastily, “how was the party? Was Judgy Mom there?”

“Which one is that?”

“She’s the one who tried to lecture me when I cut Joojoo’s hair, and like… she looks like some invisible person is constantly pinching her? Like… I think they’re all judgy to some extent, but she’s quite extra with it.”

Does this mean Kyungsoo has never gotten to opt out of a birthday party until today? Surely not. Surely, Jongin’s… requested time off from saving civilians to… sit in on toddler playdates before. That feels highly unlikely. He frowns, mulling over the most recent memory he received. “There was a goth lady there who kept asking me if I have considered becoming vegan, but she kept talking about gluten being a toxin…”

“Oh, no, that’s a different one. She’s actually not that bad if you can steer her toward her cactus collection. Did you run into Homophobic Dad?”

“The one who asks who’s the mom in our relationship?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, and maybe Jongin’s delusional or tipsy, but he seems to have leaned in closer, so that they’re almost huddled together on the couch despite the dogs leaping up to wedge between them. “N— Oh, not him. I know who that is. I never see him, for obvious reasons, but I know who you’re talking about. He’s got like,” Kyungsoo swishes his hands around his temples, “like gray streaks in his hair, right? Yeah, that guy’s different. There’s this other one that acts like if you stand in the same room as him, he might accidentally breathe some gay in and get infected. You would’ve noticed. He really likes people to notice when he’s annoyed.”

“I guess I was unlucky this time.”

That brings a brilliant smile to Kyungsoo’s lips and he chuckles as he turns to Jongin. His laugh is delightful, and Jongin is powerless, smiling along like a fool as he basks in how bright Kyungsoo’s face turns, how the whites of his eyes shine so beautifully. It’s enough to make him breathless, having Kyungsoo look at him this way, after so many days of either apathy or frustration. It is rainfall after months of drought.

"Anything else happen? Give me all the gossip. I’m glad I didn’t go, but now I’m all out of the loop."

Jongin actually needed him to repeat that, too overwhelmed with their proximity to multitask. Something itches in his brain, and he remembers: "I spoke to Taeyong's dad for a bit."

"Oh yeah? He's nice."

'Nice.' That sounds very neutral. No inflections or drops or any other clues. "Do y'all hang out often?"

Kyungsoo's left eyebrow shoots up immediately, and he cocks a smirk. _"Why?"_

"He asked about you a lot," Jongin's tone weakens in turn as he fights an embarrassed flush at having his intentions displayed. Might as well get it out then. "I… think he likes you."

For a moment, the look on Kyungsoo's face turns almost smug, and his mouth opens, words at the ready. And then he visibly tamps it all back in, shifting to a softer, amused smile instead. "Yeah, he does," Kyungsoo admits readily. "He's a single dad too and Taeyong's mom bounced basically right after he was born. Baek's been dying to be initiated into the cult of the gay for a while now, and he's got the subtlety of a five year old."

'Too.' Oh, the taste of jealousy is a sharp, bitter one. "Oh."

"But he's also really devoted to his kid and shows up for all the school functions and is super reliable for playdates and group events, so, like, play nice. Hell, he might even like _you_ more, now that he’s met you."

What does that have to do with Baekhyun having a crush on him though? Those things are totally unrelated. He knows he might be pressing his luck with this nicer Kyungsoo, but he has to ask for clarification.

Kyungsoo responds by poking into his abdomen, just a gentle prod. “I dunno,” he muses, giving him a knowing look. “Not saying he’s shallow, because I don’t really know him that well, but let’s just say everyone’s shallow on some level.”

What does that mean? That Jongin’s attractive? Or that Kyungsoo finds— _still_ finds him attractive? 

“Ah, shit,” Kyungsoo curses, looking down at his drink as if suddenly remembering it. “I forgot… Uh. Well, I can’t drive you back to the apartment now.” He straightens up awkwardly, the magic spell broken as he exhales. “I can pay for a cab—”

“No, that’s fine!” He tries not to rush it out too eagerly, but it sounds pretty desperate anyway. Jongin couldn’t care less. “I- I don’t mind wearing your clothes.” At all.

Kyungsoo is still wearing a small pout at his thoughtlessness, but nods anyway. “Alright. Good.” His gaze wanders slowly back toward the plastic bottle on the table. “More makgeolli then?”

“Yes, please.”

—

_“Mandu is all about the folds,” Kyungsoo’s voice is so warm as his fingers expertly pleat the dough. “You gotta seal everything in like how Grandma does it or it won’t taste as good.”_

_“Because it explodes?” Joohyun’s sweet little voice asks._

_Kyungsoo laughs and nods. “Yes, or it’ll explode. Remember?”_

_“Ka-BOOM!” Joohyun cackles uproariously after she supplies the sound effects._

_“Kimchi everywhere!” Kyungsoo joins in, nose scrunching up so much that his glasses slide down and he has to nudge it back with his wrist, smearing some flour onto his cheek._

_“You’re all messy, Appa,” Joohyun scolds him, mimicking Kyungsoo’s tone perfectly._

Jongin pauses the video, screenshotting the frame where Joohyun smears raw flour onto Kyungsoo’s forearm. He can’t help but smile despite the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It’s so precious, and yet none of it rings any bells. This is one of the newer videos, where Joohyun is able to articulate so much more compared to her baby years. He’s been binging for hours now, apparently. His battery has dropped all the way down to the single digits, and Jongin’s had to steal Joohyun’s tablet charger to continue. 

The videos are so simple: just a single camera, no close ups, no text overlays. They’re all titled with dates and meals, the descriptions succinct in a style that is distinctly Kyungsoo. Not really targeted toward public audiences. Going all the way back to the first videos, where Joohyun was just starting to independently stand upright and could only help by poorly whisking eggs, he discovered that the channel was originally for _him_. Something to archive the moments he had to miss due to having to actually leave home for work. He's even in a couple of the earlier ones. Not many. More like sparse cameo appearances where he stands off to the side, looking either bored or tired or a surly combination of both. Kyungsoo narrated the old videos as “for Daddy,” his voice often tilting high and soft, often lyrical as he talks baby Joohyun through basic cooking tasks. Yet somewhere along the way, the direction shifts, where Kyungsoo addresses future Joohyun instead. In one of the last videos Jongin watched, Kyungsoo even started monologuing about when she watches these later, she’ll be so surprised at how young and handsome he used to look.

 _“But what about Daddy?”_ Joohyun had asked, and there, Kyungsoo’s lips form a thin line and his face twitches, as if suppressing a frown before plastering on a weak smile. _“He’s very busy, sweetie. But we have lots of pictures of Daddy too, don’t we?”_

_These are just snapshots. They don't tell the whole story. Just how long did Kyungsoo hold out for him before giving up and just focusing on their child? It aches to think about, but it's even worse to wonder just how he never noticed in the first place._

_“You’re one to talk, you even have flour in your hair, Nini,” Kyungsoo stage-whispers in the current dumpling video, snickering when she claps her hands to her hair to check—hands that were still in the process of folding another dumpling, and ends up smooshing raw dough into her lopsided bangs._

_“Who is Nini?” Joohyun asks, guileless eyes turning away from clawing the sticky dough off her fingers to look up at her father._

_“Joojoo,” Kyungsoo's correction comes half a minute later, a hasty, breathless exhale, his brows furrowing as he replaces the stunned, lost look with something more familiar and friendly. “Obviously, I was talking to_ you _, missy.”_

— 

“Why so bummed?”

Why yes, he’s thrilled that Kyungsoo is paying enough attention to him to notice his distress, but that only minimally lifts his mood. “It’s nothing.”

Kyungsoo snickers and hands him a drink, dropping into the couch cushions next to him. “Just spit it out already.”

“Just thinking about things.”

After a long pause, Kyungsoo nudges him, impatient. “ _Go on…_ ” he urges.

“She treats me like I’m useless,” Jongin is moping, and he knows it, but that doesn’t prevent him from doing so anyway. “I mean, I _am_ useless, apparently. But _she_ knows it. And… it just hurts.”

“You’re not useless,” Kyungsoo insists, an amused smile on his lips. “It’s not rocket science, either.”

In a half-assed effort to buy Kyungsoo a few more minutes of freedom earlier, Jongin had intervened and attempted to braid their daughter’s wispy, silky hair. His attempt didn’t get far. Worse, he had to watch Joohyun put on a patient smile as she finger-combed his mistakes away and ask for her proper appa to fix it.

“So I’m just bad at it then.”

“Nah,” Kyungsoo says, laughing afterward. “You just need practice. I’ll show you.”

Jongin turns after taking a sip and catches Kyungsoo’s scrunched up, gleeful smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying would be the wrong word,” Kyungsoo says cooly, “‘Savoring’. That’s more apt, I think.”

Jongin juts his lip out.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, putting on a serene smile and mock-shivering in enjoyment. It’s all meant to be in good fun, playful even. But the entire situation still has him feeling quite disconcerted. He has a little girl whom he _adores_. There is no disputing that. Even if all he remembers of her are the past few days, Jongin loves her with every fiber of his being. And yet he can’t even do her hair. Nor does she expect him to. His inexperience is too painfully evident. He never put in the time.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says gently, touching Jongin’s shoulder and softening his look. “It’s no big deal. It’s just funny. I'll help, you know."

His hand reaches out and envelopes Kyungsoo’s. It was a thoughtless motion. He was instinctively seeking comfort where his source of comfort has always been. Too many thoughts swirling in his head, leaving him vulnerable and needy and… surprisingly, Kyungsoo doesn’t recoil like last time. Instead, he shifts his weight to balance his drink and turns his wrist to interlock their hands in a loose mitten grip while keeping his eyes straight ahead on the TV.

Kyungsoo has been in the best mood the past few days. It wasn’t a calculated decision to butter him up, but Jongin _has_ been trying his best to at least… be useful. He’s been taking the dogs out for walks, putting Joojoo to sleep every night, helping out wherever he’s allowed. It’s been freeing up enough time for Kyungsoo every night to tie up loose ends, and it puts him in such a good mood that he’ll often just sit with Jongin on the couch afterward. It’s strangely nostalgic. Maybe they did this, once upon a time. Back when they were a happy family.

“I need to go buy meat tomorrow,” Kyungsoo muses.

“Can I come?”

Kyungsoo levels those big, bright eyes on him, and Jongin’s breath hitches. How could he have ever been on the receiving end of this gaze and felt nothing? Impossible.

“Yeah, of course,” Kyungsoo says, slouching down onto his elbows. “Oh, we’ll go to this other store then, so Joo can show you the lobsters. She does this whole thing with them, it’s very cute.”

There’s not enough alcohol in his body to justify the boldness, probably not enough in the entire bottle to begin with, but Jongin doesn’t have to lean far to kiss him. It is so impulsive. Kyungsoo goes still as a statue. Jongin expects him to pull back, to snap, and he braces for it, for the impending thunder, but in the next breath, Kyungsoo’s lips mold against his. Another breath, and Kyungsoo’s hand cradles the back of his head, gliding down to his nape. His senses are overloaded, feeling Kyungsoo in his skin, breathing him in, tasting the sweetness of the drink off his tongue.

The kiss slows down, and Kyungsoo pulls away, hand still holding Jongin in place. This is it. This is all he gets. Still, better than he could've hoped.

“...I’ve missed this,” Kyungsoo whispers, eyes still closed, licking his lips. His fingers curl, petting through Jongin’s hair while still resting against his neck.

The touch is so gentle, Jongin leans in instinctively, greedily. He is a flower desperately turning toward sunlight, a dying man clawing his way to an oasis. He should say something. He has no clue what to say, but it feels important that he say something. “Me too.”

That felt woefully inadequate. Maybe actions speak louder than words. He leans in again, and this time, Kyungsoo meets him halfway. If he can just _show_ him how sincere he is, how they deserve another chance, _please_ —

“Bored out of your mind staying at home all day, huh?” Kyungsoo murmurs, exhaling a contented sigh as he glides the edge of his bottom lip against Jongin’s.

It’s difficult to talk while kissing, especially with the teasing motions Kyungsoo is doing, but he manages. “Huh?”

“Hah… horny?” Kyungsoo has to pull back to say this, and they both take the opportunity to catch their breaths. He hadn’t even realized he was panting, but the thought leaves almost as soon as it arrives. Kyungsoo’s pupils are dilated, eyelids growing heavy. Oh god, what a sight.

“I’m not bored,” Jongin reassures him immediately, defensively. No way in hell is this boring. His attempt at pulling back to argue his case some more gets halted, Kyungsoo catching with gentle pressure against his nape, guiding him forward again.

“Well,” Kyungsoo has shifted to face him fully now, leaning back in, dropping shorter kisses generously, consonants dampened by the friction between them. “Maybe I get bored too.”

He’s only half-hearing the words. Jongin swallows, reaching out and cupping Kyungsoo’s chin, tracing down along the right side of his jaw, down to his neck. No resistance. Feeling brave, his other hand wraps around Kyungsoo’s waist, and then Jongin chokes as Kyungsoo goes straight for his cock, squeezing the erection over the thin material of his shorts.

 _“Kyungsoo,”_ he squeaks out, desire building at an alarming rate.

“Mm,” Kyungsoo hums out, like a half-formed question.

“I—” It is difficult to form coherent thoughts. Want has flooded his senses. He doesn’t even remember how they got to this position in the first place, and it’s increasingly difficult to care as Kyungsoo gropes at him more deliberately. Kyungsoo, whose body he definitely remembers, who’s letting him touch and pet and squeeze as he pleases. His mind is consumed in flames. “I- I want you,” Jongin whispers, diving down to hunt, lips suctioning lower down on Kyungsoo’s neck. He feels Kyungsoo shiver, feels the goosebumps rising, and bites down just enough to grip, to scrape his teeth against the skin, prompting a gasp and a soft curse.

Kyungsoo lets out a distracted chuckle, soft and airy as he tilts his head more, inviting Jongin to explore further. “What do you think the ethics are behind sleeping with you when you’re still dealing with amnesia?”

A frisson of excitement runs through him. Jongin straightens up, swallowing again at the sight of a thoroughly aroused Kyungsoo. He watches him inhale again, licking his lips, teeth snagging on the thick bottom lip as he waits for Jongin’s answer.

Good god, he’s beautiful…

“I’m—” Jongin sputters, his voice too embarrassingly earnest, “—I mean, I’m still a consenting adult.”

Another laugh. It makes his heart sing. Kyungsoo pulls him back down, savoring the kiss, slowly exploring how their lips mold against each other’s. “A consenting adult who’s still my ex, still dealing with this whole memory issue.”

Ex. The word stings and he recoils.

Kyungsoo pulls back, regret in his eyes. He worries his lip, “Yeah, this was probably a bad idea. Sorry.”

“No—” He flounders, hands curling over Kyungsoo’s shoulders, sliding down his arms, grasping his hands. “I— _Please_ .” That’s not what he wanted to say. Not at all the message he wanted to go with, but Kyungsoo looks deep into his eyes, and _please_ if he can just _see_ what Jongin wants to say. If only—

Kyungsoo pulls them up and adjusts, so that it’s Jongin’s hand in his, leading him to their bedroom—to _Kyungsoo’s_ bedroom. The walk is silent, but his grip is reassuring, settling them both onto the edge of the bed. It feels too familiar, the way he sinks into the mattress, the resistance and pressure. Jongin shifts, splaying out in the middle of the sheets, pulling Kyungsoo on top of him, licking into his mouth, hands roaming over his back as Kyungsoo kneads at the muscles of his arms. It's just barely out of reach of familiar.

“You top though,” Kyungsoo whispers. “I topped last time.”

Wait, what? Aren’t they— “Last time? When was last time?”

Kyungsoo grazes his lips hungrily. “Couple months.”

Mentally piecing together the timeline, Jongin reels. That would be when they were in the midst of the divorce, wouldn’t it? Definitely after… after they’ve broken up and filed for divorce. What could’ve brought that on? A moment of weakness? Reconciliation?

This has been going on for a while. That brings up another dark thought…

“Have you been with anyone else?”

“Jesus, Jongin, why do you always ask this?”

‘Always’? How many times has this—

“Regardless, the answer is still no,” Kyungsoo blows out a big sigh as he stands up and walks away, toward the closet, stretching up onto his tiptoes to feel around on the high shelf. “I… -’m not ready to date yet."

That's not a very reassuring answer. Jongin gulps, trying to play it cool. "No?"

"I dunno. The thought of having to… gussy myself up and look presentable and audition for someone new as a single gay dad sounds dreadful and exhausting. I’m… too busy for that right now.”

That's even worse, hearing all the thought he had put into such a choice. Too much insinuation that this is only happening because it's basically a force of habit. Too much potential for a possibility that Kyungsoo has already tried and decided it wasn't time yet. Jongin gulps again, watching as Kyungsoo pulls a pristine looking box of condoms from the shelf and heads back to him. Absently, he muses on how Kyungsoo does a better job of stashing their, apparently, irregularly used condoms versus him and his supersuit.

“What…” He swallows again, feeling his throat go dry. “What about… me?”

Kyungsoo gives him an odd look, lips turning into a wry half smile as he pretends to study the sheets. “I don't know. I could never bring myself to ask. So I guess neither of us knows the answer to that, huh?”

“I don’t think I would’ve…”

“You bragged a lot,” Kyungsoo counters too quickly, “about how I could just be so easily…” His brows furrow and he shakes his head, as if to clear away the thought. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter, and it’s ruining the moment.”

"I- I would never—"

"Trust me, I never thought you could say a lot of things. But that won't change that you still did." It's a cheap shot, and Kyungsoo knew it when he lobbed it, but he watches Jongin's face as the pettiness sharpens to barbs and sinks in. His gaze softens after, though, to regret, and he sighs as he sits on the corner of the bed. "I guess that's not fair to you right now. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Do you want to stop? Let's… just stop."

Too much hidden meaning behind that last suggestion. That maybe they should end this entirely. The way Kyungsoo is looking at him… To see his own vulnerability reflected back. Part of him acknowledges that it might not be the best time for something like this. Some mature, experienced part of him. And another still wants to plow forward, to seek warmth, to see Kyungsoo’s walls falter. “No,” Jongin shakes his head and edges closer, extending a hand and reveling when Kyungsoo takes it. They kiss again, a little more carefully this time, each treating the other as if they’re something more delicate than flesh and bone. At least in the present moment.

“I think I miss this the most,” Kyungsoo hums against him.

“What?” he asks, as his shirt hits the bed, as he works Kyungsoo’s pants off.

“Having someone to kiss like this again,” Kyungsoo continues. “It’s nice.”

‘Someone.’ Not having _him_ specifically to kiss, but just having any placeholder. How could they have been together, potentially multiple times, during the divorce process and just continue this? Is this not agony? They’re in bed, not as husbands or lovers, but just… generic stand-ins, borrowing friction, satisfying basic instincts. The thought rends his heart into pieces.

“Stop thinking,” Kyungsoo whispers, urgently shedding the last of his clothes and climbing onto Jongin’s bare lap, combing Jongin’s hair back and holding his head so they can look into each other’s eyes. “Please.”

“Okay.” This feels all wrong. His fingers trail down the front of Kyungsoo’s body, over his chest, pressing into his thighs, savoring the give of the flesh. This isn’t right. This isn’t what two people do when they no longer care about each other. He knows he definitely still cares, and yet here Kyungsoo is, exploring Jongin’s body, groping over each band of muscle, pressing lips to each stretch of skin, as if he’s also just taking in this moment as communion of some sorts. This can’t just be something they do when they reach critical mass for loneliness.

“Shit,” Kyungsoo curses under his breath, pulling away sheepishly. “The lube. Hang on.”

He pats around for the condoms, tossing the box toward Jongin as he jogs back to the closet. The light is dim, emphasizing the curves and dips of his silhouette. He is beautiful. He’s as beautiful as Jongin can ever remember him. He lifts up to his tiptoes again, and Jongin’s gaze drops to the swell of his ass as it catches the light.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says gently, lifting Jongin’s chin with the back of his index finger. “You okay?”

On impulse, Jongin grabs him by the waist, digging in and turning him around. He presses his face into the side of Kyungsoo’s ass cheek, mouthing at the skin, letting his teeth graze over it. It is only now that he realizes just how turned on he actually is, amidst all the other distractions and worries in his mind. Kyungsoo is naked before him, and no matter what else, Jongin is still drawn to him as always. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, guiding his husband back to the bed.

His intention was to lay Kyungsoo down, to spread him open, and worship him all over with his mouth and tongue, but Kyungsoo wriggles out of his grip and, with an odd flicker in his eyes, pushes the box of condoms toward him again, popping the cap of the lube bottle open with his other hand. “Come on then,” Kyungsoo says, wetting his fingers and parting his legs.

Whatever impetus he had dissipates as Kyungsoo spreads wide enough to slip his fingers between his legs, rubbing over his hole with slicked fingers. His face scrunches in focus as he pushes a finger in, another immediately after, causing him to wince and back away. The look of frustration grows as he evens out his breathing, trying again as his brows furrow even deeper.

“Can I help?” Jongin asks quietly. He has already been on his knees, cock sheathed, waiting patiently between Kyungsoo’s legs as he kneads Kyungsoo’s thighs, admiring the contrast between the firmer and softer areas. He loves this, loves him. _Needs_ this so much.

“It’s just been a while,” Kyungsoo grumbles, sliding his fingers out and coating them with fresh lube. Whether it was a subtle refusal or a distracted reply, Jongin can't tell.

They don’t have to rush. He wants to tell Kyungsoo that. This isn’t a temporary respite. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be. They can be like this from now on. They can fix things. He can feel it, can feel Kyungsoo’s heart again.

“I’m good now,” Kyungsoo exhales, swiping the lube onto his abandoned underwear and climbing back onto Jongin’s lap, plastering on a tight smile. “You good?”

“I’m—” At Kyungsoo’s behest, he simply nods and grips his cock loosely, holding it in place so Kyungsoo can lower himself onto it. It’s slippery and stubborn, and Kyungsoo manages to rub his rim all over the head of Jongin’s sheathed dick. He’s so sensitive even through the barrier, whether from the arousal or the abstinence or maybe it’s just because it’s Kyungsoo.

“ _Hold_ it,” Kyungsoo grits out, taking a deep breath in and exhaling again, willing himself to relax. They finally stop slipping, and he takes a second to recalibrate before dropping down in short bursts, his breath hitching as he slowly takes Jongin into his body.

It feels so intense already. So soft and warm and Jongin looks down to see Kyungsoo nestle into place on his lap, his ass snug on Jongin’s thighs.

“Are- are you sure I didn’t top last time?” Jongin sputters out, a ripple of pleasure running up his spine.

Kyungsoo laughs breathlessly as he raises up, gliding like hot silk up Jongin’s shaft. “Pretty sure. But what makes you think that?”

The sensations are activating his memory. Kyungsoo drops down in one fell swoop, and Jongin moans, fingers digging into Kyungsoo’s waist. He can see a phantom overlay, where he is doing the same, hands squeezed tightly around Kyungsoo’s slender hips, keeping a much rougher pace. The memory is too blurry. He can barely even make out Kyungsoo’s face. He softens his grip in the present, caressing the skin as he glides over the dip in the small of Kyungsoo’s back, down over the swell of his ass to cup each cheek.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo reminds him in a whisper.

“I just remember,” Jongin says, trying to focus on the vision, too distracted by Kyungsoo’s unmarred chest before him, “like, um, like against a wall, I think?”

“So you only remember it when you’re doing all the work, you lazy bottom?” Kyungsoo lets out an airy giggle, his tone teasing and light. “That was Christmas.” His eyes dull and a low moan vibrates from him as Jongin laps over a nipple. “I promise we’ve fucked since.”

It is said like an inside joke. Playful. Something funny to just himself. Or Kyungsoo's self and the hidden Jongin inside of him that would get that reference.

“Kiss me again,” Kyungsoo asks breathlessly. They’ve found their pace. It’s rougher than he would like, more harried, but Kyungsoo is the one at the helm, setting the tempo. As for Jongin, Jongin has managed to bloom red splotches all over Kyungsoo's chest and has worked his way back up the sensitive column of his neck to leave more marks on his beloved. Kiss though, yes, kiss. 

_"Hyung,"_ Jongin sighs against his mouth, letting him lead for the duration of a breath and then holding tight and flipping them over.

Kyungsoo’s face loses all tension as he lands on the bed. He smiles, teeth flashing for an instant, and lets go of Jongin’s neck to hook onto his own knees, pulling them toward his head. “Don’t—” he squirms, an easy giggle following as he nudges Jongin off of his neck. “I don’t want to explain hickeys yet, please.”

This feels so right. This is them connecting, enjoying each other. This is his Kyungsoo. _His_ Kyungsoo. _His_. His heart soars as Kyungsoo claws at him to pull him close again, lips puckering to ask for more that Jongin is all too happy to provide. 

"That feels so good," Kyungsoo whispers as if he's sharing a secret, letting go of another low moan as Jongin rolls his hips forward, sinking in deep before withdrawing. 

This pace is much better. More physical contact. More presence. He kisses Kyungsoo again, marveling at how effortless of an act that is, how eagerly Kyungsoo meets him halfway, pulls him down, devours his lips. Kyungsoo’s eyes have glazed over. When unoccupied, his mouth is held open, sensual gasps interspersed with indulgent moans on those beautiful lips. Kyungsoo’s knuckles graze his abdomen, his hand loosely fisted around the end of his own cock, sporadically tugging at it and stopping, prolonging the moment. His body is on fire. There’s no way Kyungsoo can’t feel what he feels, how perfectly they’re fitting together — how they _fit_ together. He has to remember too.

“I love you,” Jongin whimpers at him. He can feel it all building, overwhelming.

“I’m close,” Kyungsoo says weakly, as if Jongin couldn’t tell from his breathing, the flush in his cheeks, the urgency in which he grips Jongin’s shoulder. His fingers are shaking. His face contorts into a grimace, not of pain but pressure and pleasure, of the tease and promise of release. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Kyungsoo in ecstasy is the sweetest sound. He makes another whimper and then gasps, cock spurting white lines a short distance up his stomach as he spasms around Jongin, a short whine coming out each time Jongin thrusts back in.

“Don’t stop,” Kyungsoo orders breathlessly, keening from oversensitivity yet holding on tight and pulling Jongin flush against him, urging him on. He groans and pushes his hand down lower between them, fumbling shakily as he squeezes the base of Jongin’s cock, pushing and tugging so the condom is slipped off on his next withdrawal, abandoned into the sheets as Jongin pushes back in.

It’s too much. The raw contact, Kyungsoo’s weak mewls, his intentional clenching, involuntary throbbing; Jongin comes, thrusting forward so hard that he shunts Kyungsoo up the bed a few inches, letting out a long moan as he nuzzles into Kyungsoo’s neck once more.

In the silent aftermath, as they catch their breaths, Kyungsoo rubs lines up and down his damp back. It’s so soothing.

“I love you,” Jongin repeats gruffly, trying not to drip more sweat onto Kyungsoo’s face.

He can feel Kyungsoo go tense as his hands slow to a still. Something has shattered the moment. The something being him. Kyungsoo breathes, and only then does Jongin notice that he had held his breath at all as he nudges and motions for Jongin to get off. Slipping out with a wince, Jongin rolls onto his side, heart sinking as Kyungsoo avoids eye contact and sits up, gathering his underwear and using it to wipe away the cum streaks on his chest and the lube between his legs. 

No.

“I think you still love me too, even if you’re afraid to say it,” he challenges, following Kyungsoo into the bathroom, halting at the door frame. Here he stood weeks ago, watching Kyungsoo break down. Over him and them. He _knows_ Kyungsoo must still love him, if only he can just get him to acknowledge it and accept it. Time for confession.

“Of course, I still love you,” Kyungsoo says, taking a slow breath before turning to face him. His voice is so weary. “I think I’ll always love you.”

He just got what he asked for, and yet Jongin can only feel dread. This isn’t a miracle.

“...but this was just… a fun thing.”

Silence. “Hyung,” Jongin starts. It’s hard to get the word out, hard to even breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says, lowering his gaze and taking a step backward, widening the space between them. “That was so stupid. I should’ve been more responsible.”

“No—”

“I should’ve just waited for all of your memories to come back before doing this,” Kyungsoo continues, as if he didn’t even hear the attempt at interruption. “Or- or not have done it at all. It was just—” He trails off, eyes focused on something in the distant, disappointment weighing down his features. “I didn’t think things through. I’m sorry. It was just… really addictive, feeling so important again.”

“You _are_ important to me,” Jongin intercepts, brashly stepping forward. How can Kyungsoo even say that when the proof is right in front of him? As if Kyungsoo wasn’t the only person he could remember after he woke up from the accident. “You’re _the_ most important person to me. You’re my _everything_.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, finally looking back at him with sad, shining eyes. The corner of his lips pull into something resembling a smile. “I’m not yours, Jongin.” His voice is gentle and soft, a poison pill. “And you haven’t been mine in… a really long time—”

“Soo—”

“We were just borrowing each other for the night again. That’s all this was. Please understand that.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Daddy, stay there. I’ll teleport to you. Watch.”

Jongin does his best to freeze in place, adjusting the scarf so it doesn’t fall off of him. That wouldn’t make for a good hostage.

 _“Yap!”_ Joohyun exclaims, her little fingers popping together in a rudimentary snap. She takes off like a bullet, arms flailing behind her as she crosses the room and nearly barrels into Jongin. She stops with a flourish, striking a pose in her polyester Kai suit before dramatically yanking the scarf off of him.

“You saved me!” he says, throwing his hands up and clapping enthusiastically as she climbs onto him for a hug.

If he focuses on their daughter, he won’t break down. He just has to keep her entertained, which is a full time job on its own.

He can hear the keys rattling, and the front door open and shut. Kyungsoo is back and calling for Joohyun, for his life raft, to hurry up. For a fleeting moment, Jongin holds his breath, stupidly hoping that Kyungsoo would call for him too. But there has been no change of heart, no signal whatsoever.

They walk in near silence to the subway station, forming an odd Venn diagram of conversation, with Joohyun in the center, oblivious as she regales them with her heroic adventures this morning. They walk into the market, forming a human shield on either side of her against the sea of people, slipping deftly into the currents to peruse through the stalls.

If he motions to grab the bags, Kyungsoo will readily hand them over, divvying up the haul between the two of them in silence. They haven’t spoken a word to each other. It has been a tense morning after a nightmare of an evening. Jongin wants nothing more than to corner him, to talk this out and get answers. He suspects Kyungsoo knows that and isn’t into the idea, having made himself scarce all morning.

“Here, Daddy,” Joohyun nudges him, pulling him from his reverie. She raises the bouquet up higher over her head until Jongin accepts it. “I got these for you. Aren’t they pretty? But I would like to have one too…”

Jongin stares down at the yellow roses. It’s a small bouquet. A half dozen. He looks over to see Kyungsoo accepting change from the flourist and picking his bags back up to continue to the next one. Electricity runs through him. Yellow roses.

He breathes in and sees flashes of his high school graduation, where Kyungsoo holds out a bouquet four times the size of this one. Exhales, and Kyungsoo is sixteen, holding a single yellow rose in his mouth, an embarrassed scrunching of his face as he giggles and flushes a deep red. Inhale, and his hands, a child’s hands, are pulling Kyungsoo out of the rose bush where he had landed after falling out of the first story window, caught between the thorns and covered in golden petals. White Day, yellow roses. Christmas with matching yellow rose crowns. Single roses in skinny vases for Chuseok. 

These are an apology of sorts. Six yellow “I’m sorries.” And yet Kyungsoo won’t turn to face him, won’t look at or talk to him. Jongin’s eyes are watering, but they’re surrounded by dozens of other people, shopping for rice cakes, and he can only lower the roses to his side and trudge forth. He doesn’t want an apology. He wants his life back.

There is a stir, and someone screams in the distance. Jongin looks up, huddling Joohyun close to him as metal creaks loudly. A moment later, and a crowd cheers and applauds. The sea is moving, rushing forward and gathering into an audience, chanting something unintelligible.

“Oh, Daddy, look!” Joohyun says, pointing up at the sky. “Look, it’s Hotman!”

What kind of name is Hotman? Jongin squints and makes out a long streak of flames in the air, descending into the market. It is in the shape of a man. Hot… man… Joohyun is tugging on his hand, anxious to get a closer glance.

By the time they reach him, Hotman has already extinguished the flames, leaving him in a three-toned suit that draws… very loose inspiration from fire fighting uniforms. Jongin sneers, looking him over.

“Why, hey there, Kai!” the superhero exclaims, walking up to their group, pointing at Joohyun’s play suit. He had been signing autographs, making his way through the mass of people. He crouches down and smiles brightly at her.

“Hi, Hotman!” she replies, taking the pen Kyungsoo hands her and pursing her lips as she shyly accepts his handshake and offers him the pen and one of their shopping bags to autograph.

“Am I your favorite superhero?” Hotman teases, drawing little hearts around his name before handing it back to her. The tinny voice mask is strange. It distorts, but it makes Jongin think of funhouses. He can almost hear the voice underneath.

It makes sense that he would though. Wouldn’t it? He is Kai. Surely, he knows who Hotman is.

“No…” she says honestly, sheepishly lowering her eyes.

“Awww,” Hotman says, making an exaggerated frown and then smiling again. “Who is your favorite then?”

“Kai…” she says apologetically, retreating into Jongin’s embrace and tugging the sleeves of her suit down over her hands.

Hotman pretends to consider this, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Ahh, Kai. Yeah, he’s pretty cool. I guess I’ll accept that. He’s a great choice.” He is teasing, flashing perfectly white teeth as he grins at her, dimpling a cheek. “She’s adorable,” he says, this time looking up at them, at Kyungsoo and Jongin, before moving on to the next person.

—

Tonight, Kyungsoo is reading Joohyun a bedtime story. From the hallway, Jongin can’t hear it clearly enough to follow along. He has thought about this, though, and is determined, stationing himself against the doorway. They haven’t noticed him yet, too engrossed in the book. He takes a moment to watch them, huddled together under the blanket, each one balancing a hand at the top of the book to hold it open. Kyungsoo gives each character their own voice, opting for a shrill, goofy dragon to go against a grumpy, heavily accented witch.

He feels like an outsider, spying on a family in their own home.

 _‘You haven’t been mine in… a really long time.’_

Joohyun listens with rapt attention, clutching her smaller Kai plush close to her chest and making sure that he can get a good view of the illustrations. She is so much calmer with Kyungsoo than with him. Learned behavior. On both of their parts.

He _is_ only an outsider, looking in.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in surprise when he steps out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.

"Can we talk?"

Kyungsoo thins out his lips. "I don't want to fight tonight. Please."

“You lied to me,” Jongin says quietly.

“What?”

Jongin follows him into the kitchen. “We’re not divorced. I remembered the accident.” He remembers it from the outside. He had teleported at the very last second, as the frame collapsed. He still took some of the force of the crash with him, so that when he landed a dozen kilometers away, he was still tossed like a pebble across the pavement. He remembers his head bouncing off the asphalt, but still a safe distance enough away from the flames.

Kyungsoo waits, unreadable.

“I was on my way to court that day. We had never submitted any of the paperwork.”

“I wasn't lying… We’ve still been separated for nearly two years, Jongin. The divorce is just a formality. That we _both_ wanted.”

“Or a second chance.” Jongin swallows, steeling his nerves. “Don’t you think all of this happened for a reason? It’s like the clearest sign.”

Kyungsoo is worrying his bottom lip. His brow twitches, and he shakes his head. “Please, Jongin…”

This is not insurmountable. It’s an opportunity, why can Kyungsoo not see it? “But—”

“If I could snap my fingers and make it so all of the damage between us was undone, I would,” Kyungsoo says. He frowns, brow twitching again, followed by a quiver in his lips. “I would in a heartbeat. Do you think I don't want to be happy? That having to do all of this alone is fun for me?” He stops to breathe, to steady his breathing. “I’m not that selfish, you know. I want you to be happy too. Do you know how hard it was, realizing that? That I can’t make you happy? I’ve tried. And I’m done trying, Jongin. It’s too much. I can’t live like that.”

No. _No_. “What is it? Are you worried that once I remember everything, that I’ll forget this period of time? It won’t just undo everything since the accident.”

The look on Kyungsoo’s face tells him if he didn’t hit home with that, he’s at least in the ballpark. Kyungsoo opens his mouth, and then his expression changes, visibly withdrawing whatever argument he was about to say. Instead, he shakes his head sadly. “It hurts to be without you. I miss you.” He holds up a finger, asking for silence when Jongin is about to interrupt. “But that’s something I’ve gotten used to. I had to learn how to build this life on my own, _while_ raising a baby, _while_ working. Alone. I couldn’t just check out too, because life still had to go on one way or the other. This isn’t the life I wanted. You know that, right? I wanted a life with you. I wanted us to grow old together.” He swallows, blinking as tears fill his eyes, threatening to spill. “It took me _years_ to finally accept that that’s not a life I can have..”

 _“Why!”_ Jongin exclaims, trying to hold back the storm growing inside him. “You said you still love me too,” he argues weakly, sniffling. “We can still fix this.”

“Love,” Kyungsoo laughs out a single bark, his face contorting into a pained mask for a second. His eyes harden, determined. He paces, sucking in air, wiping at his face, clenching his fists. “Honestly, what do you know about love, Jongin?”

He is momentarily stunned by the vitriol in Kyungsoo’s tone, response dissipating between them. Kyungsoo swivels on his heels, storming off into the hallway, to his office, and then striding back, a folder in his hand. He holds it up for Jongin to take.

His copy of their divorce paperwork. Jongin looks up, making eye contact, unasked questions at the ready.

“You didn’t even want her,” Kyungsoo spits out, nodding toward the folder. “You gave me full custody right away. _You_ were the one who wanted kids in the first place. You were the one who pushed to find a surrogate.”

He is breathless. His ears are ringing from the oxygen deprivation, to the point that the words start to blur, but there is no doubt about what Kyungsoo is saying. It’s all right there. Why. Why would he do that.

Maybe… to protect them. How could Jongin be a superhero and take care of a little girl on his own? It had to have been the reason.

“You only remembered me when you woke up,” Kyungsoo says, looking down at the floor. “I suppose that should be flattering, but I’ve spent my whole life taking care of you, picking up after you. That’s no surprise.”

“That’s not…” He trails off, uncertain of what defense he had.

“Tell me what is love,” Kyungsoo asks. He waits for a beat before continuing. “Can you? You’ve spent more time with her in the past few weeks than the rest of her entire life _combined_. You say you love me, but you don’t even know me—”

“You’re my best friend, Soo…”

“I don’t know why that was so hard for me to see, because I don’t fucking know you at all either.” The exasperation is clear in Kyungsoo’s voice. “You have this whole life away from us, from your _family_ , that we know nothing about. That wasn’t by accident. It’s what you wanted. I don’t even know who your friends are, who you even hang out with or anything. Even when you’re here, you’re not. How many times in her life do you think you’ve put Joohyun to bed? Or tried to actually get to know her, see what she likes even when it’s childish stuff? Love isn’t just laying your soul at the feet of another person and hoping they will be merciful with it. Love is a skill, Jongin. It’s a skill that demands patience and maintenance and it’s completely unsustainable on its own.”

He feels weak, like he can just collapse on the floor, into the earth. 

“You don’t love me,” Kyungsoo says quietly. “You love having a housekeeper and a cook and a nanny who you can fuck on demand exclusively, who’ll comfort you selflessly and need nothing in return.” He wipes at his face with the back of his hand, running it over his eyelashes several times to clear away the tears. “That gives _you_ a happily ever after, not _us_.”

Shame. He’s feeling shame. The memories are still locked away, but he knows Kyungsoo believes every word of it, and he’s seen enough evidence in himself that makes it hard to doubt. Not that he doesn’t love Kyungsoo, because he _does_ . No matter what Kyungsoo thinks, he _knows_ it’s love. But he has also been so, so fucking selfish.

“The last few weeks…” Kyungsoo trails off, breathing deeply to ground himself, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You’ve been here more than you ever have. I’m not just talking about physically. You and Joohyun have inside jokes now. But you’re going to get your memory back. I’d _want_ you to get your memory back. And you’ll go back to work. You’ll go back to your regular life, and Joohyun and I will either go back to ours, or we’ll stand here like fools until we realize we’ve been forgotten yet again. Do you know how much that hurts? To have to lie to your own daughter and tell her that of course Daddy thinks she's important?

The shame spirals through him, like a catalyst or a magnifier. He can see the life Kyungsoo has lived, or at least a small glimpse of it. Is it wrong to still want to try and fix it? To make up for it, too little, too late?

“She’s our responsibility,” Kyungsoo says, sounding eerily calm after the storm he’s just unleashed. “She _loves_ you. I know you’ll be busy again, but you two got to really connect lately. If you’ll just try to make time for her…”

He’s being asked to find any compassion left in his heart and give it to their daughter, since Kyungsoo can’t rely on him for that anymore. That’s all the love of his life feels he can ask from him. “I’m sorry,” Jongin whispers. He could barely hear the apology himself, it feels as if his chest is crushed under concrete. “I’m so sorry. I’ve… I’ve been such a terrible person.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes soften. He frowns and shakes his head. “You’re not a terrible person.” Platitudes. In a time like this. Still trying to tend to his ego, putting him first again. “You're a great person. You’re my favorite person,” Kyungsoo adds, his voice sounding so hollow. “You're just not... mine. And life made a lot more sense once I finally accepted that. I understand it now. And I think that once we- once we get over this, maybe we could even learn to be friends again, if that's something you still want by then.”

—

_He should tell Kyungsoo. He’s been dying to tell Kyungsoo, and that urge might be overwhelming his logic. Jongin balls up his fists and leaps, landing in the Do’s backyard, by the azaleas. That’s a short distance off from where he had pictured, but it’s close enough. Maybe that’s something that improves with practice. Jongin shuffles into the shadows and cranes his neck, searching for the window. Getting it in his line of sight, he sucks in a breath and steps again, feeling the concrete give way to wood, warm even through his sandals._

_“I’m just gonna go with Jongin tomorrow,” he hears Kyungsoo say. There is water running in the background. His mother is doing dishes, grandmother in the other room, characters on the TV arguing in the background._

_Jump - jump - Jongin sinks into Kyungsoo’s pile of fresh laundry, pondering just how funny it would be to hop out when Kyungsoo gets to his room. He would probably do that big eyed, confused look. It’s so cute. Jongin eyes the closed door and shuffles over to the desk. He flips through Kyungsoo’s sketchbook, idly twirling one of Kyungsoo’s expensive new pencils through his fingers as he admires the progression. Hyung is such a talented artist. They are in the same class, but where Jongin sticks to the assignments, Kyungsoo has been exploring his own projects._

_His own eyes look up at him from the paper. His hands. They were doing life references, and had made a pact to avoid awkwardness by just using each other as models. Jongin had been too nervous about how his representation of Kyungsoo turned out to see what the latter had created. It looks great. It actually_ looks _like him, as opposed to Jongin’s attempt, although he doesn’t recall looking quite so cheery and warm as how Kyungsoo has captured him here._

_None of the seniors were going tomorrow. That was the plan. Jongin smiles, flipping through the rest of Kyungsoo’s illustrations before carefully closing the book. He’ll come just for Jongin, so that he won’t have to eat alone and be the odd loner in class._

_He should leave a little note. A scribble on the top of Kyungsoo’s Physics homework, something to leave Kyungsoo wondering just when Jongin could’ve marked it. That would be funny._

_It’s a bold risk, but upon hearing the door handle, Jongin jumps into the hallway, a bit further down. Kyungsoo’s mom and grandmother are both preoccupied. Jongin has been here and seen their routine a thousand times by now. He turns around just in time to see Kyungsoo’s door swing shut._

_He knocks, pausing a breath before opening the door._

_Kyungsoo whirls around, the surprise in his eyes melting pleasantly into a smile. “Hey!” He’s used to Jongin showing up unannounced, letting himself in at Kyungsoo’s family’s insistence. Little does he know just how rarely Jongin actually bothers commuting here anymore._

_Hyung’s eyes sparkle when he smiles like this. Jongin has to contain his ebullience, knowing that Kyungsoo’s eyes only sparkle like this_ toward Jongin _. They both have other friends, but it’s different between the two of them. Kyungsoo really gets him, and even better, always has time for him._

_It makes him strangely happy to see Kyungsoo smile. It’s like having his own personal sunrise. Something that he wants to experience over and over, even if he doesn’t fully understand why._

_“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?”_

_Kyungsoo takes his hand and walks him over to the computer desk, directing him into a chair while Kyungsoo leans against the table. The touch is so unnecessary. It’s such a generous display of fondness, Jongin can only smile dumbly at its silliness, having forgotten what Kyungsoo just asked._

_“Jongin-ah.”_

_“I was just thinking about class tomorrow,” he covers hastily. “Are you going to go?”_

_“What am I gonna do,” Kyungsoo sneers, giving him a playful shove, “make you go by yourself?”_

_—_

It’s all back. He remembers everything now. For some reason, Jongin had expected it to be dramatic, like his entire life replaying before his eyes, but… no. It’s all back like he had been fumbling around in his dark bedroom, finding the light switch at long last, flipping it back on and that’s it. It’s just the room he had always been in.

Except now he realizes just _what_ room it had been all along, he supposes.

He teleports to SM headquarters, scowling as the weird room freshener that Minseok uses fills his nostrils again. It had bothered him for ages until he grew so used to it, but the minty scent makes his eyes water now. The apartment had been for appearances. He had been living in the dorms here, after that fight where they threatened each other once again with divorce. Clearly, he never saw the importance of keeping up with appearances after that.

Strange how there’s no sensation of experiencing everything again for the first time, like he had done as recently as yesterday.

 _“Yoooo,”_ says a familiar voice as someone claps him on the back. “You’re finally back?”

Jongin turns around to a beaming Chanyeol, still in his Hotman suit. “Yeah, I’m back.” Guilt rushes forward, up his chest and lodging into his throat. He should have told Kyungsoo first. Not that Kyungsoo would necessarily want to be the first to know, but he feels like that’s owed. 

The timing though.

“Please tell me you saw my fabulously chiseled biceps and it shook you so hard, you regained your memory,” Chanyeol says boastfully.

“Are you even lifting still? Looks like you’d been slacking, to be honest.” They banter some more. Updating each other, Jongin offering up his bare bones summary.

“Man, having to live with your ex though. I guess that was probably awkward,” Chanyeol says in his normal voice, his mask powering off and docking onto the base. It doesn’t sound too different, the idiosyncrasies too obvious even with the filter. “He seems like a nice guy though.”

“He is,” Jongin nods thoughtfully, sitting down opposite of him on a bench.

“Man, you missed out on so much. Have you told Junmyeon yet? I bet he’s been dying to get you back.”

He has. On the outskirts of their own problems, Jongin recalls seeing Kai in the news, people wondering where he has been. He’s been feeling the itch too, the need to be back, to validate himself. Here, he is worth at least something.

And yet, thinking back, even though it was fumbling around in the dark, he was beside Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo who still held his hand through it.

“How long do you think you’ll be Hotman?” Jongin asks suddenly, interrupting Chanyeol’s rant on his theme song getting remixed. “We can’t do this forever.”

Chanyeol ponders this for a few seconds. “I don’t know, man. It’s kind of cool to think about being 61 and still kicking ass though, no?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin mumbles. At that age, he’d want to be… retired, no? That’s his entire life up to now, doubled. What would retirement even look like by then? Him, older, obviously. Joohyun would be older than he is now. How much of her life would he have been in? She’d be an adult by then, having learned to live without him really present in her life. What need would she have for him by that point, a washed up superhero? Even if he is her favorite right now, there will eventually come a day where she outgrows this childhood obsession. What else is left after that?

What is the alternative? Should he quit his job, make Kyungsoo support him while he stays at home? Get some freelancing side gigs? It’s not like being a superhero pays all that much. They get paid through state funds, but they get paid mostly in glory.

But he’s a teleporter. He could be anywhere and just work remote.

This had been his argument before, that if this is what it takes to make Kyungsoo happy, then it wasn’t worth it. But it's difficult to see it in that lens today. His perspective has changed. Kyungsoo doesn’t want him to give up his life for theirs. He has never wanted Jongin to give up anything. He just wants… to be a part of his life, to feel important. That is merited. It is deserved. He had thought that was asking too much before, wanting Jongin to be there for trivial shit when the world still needs saving.

Why. Why did it take a fucking near death experience and a shitty soap opera redemption storyline for him to realize this.

“I don’t know how you do it, man,” Chanyeol continues, oblivious.

“Kids are hard,” Jongin answers, feeling hollow. Somehow he had managed to pay attention to Chanyeol’s conversation just fine.

“I’m an uncle now. It’s so much responsibility, you know? I mean, of course you do, but like… _man_. It feels like it’s harder for me to be an uncle than for you to be a dad. Like maybe it just comes effortlessly to you or something, but it’s so hard just trying to find time to hang with my sister and my nephew.”

This is what one of his closest friends thinks he sees, from the outside looking in. It leaves him gutted. How far from the truth. Is it really just Kyungsoo who knows him at all? Kyungsoo, who sees him for what he is, and has to run away to preserve himself. What kind of hero is he then?

“I was feeling really lost,” Chanyeol says. “But then you told me y’all were getting divorced, and then it was like… I didn’t know what to think. You just said your husband was being needy and demanding. It’s sad that he’s changed, but it just got me thinking too, you know? Like can I even handle a relationship? I can barely remember to take Toben out to potty on time, I don't know if I could be there for someone else, and what if they just demand so much too, you know?.”

—

The dogs trot in to sniff him. He gives them scratches, rubbing Meokmool’s belly and petting Huchu's ears. The girls have been so used to his sudden appearances over the years. Joohyun is at daycare. He misses her so much already.

Kyungsoo walks into his office, eyes widening as he comes to a full stop.

“...Kai?”

This is it, the moment of truth.

“Hi, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, his voice once again distorted by the mask. His suit feels weird, off. The leather hasn’t been stretched out in a while. He must have lost muscle mass. Makes sense. He hasn't worked out at all in weeks, whereas before, he was putting in an hour daily at the gym with Chanyeol. Priorities. What was it for?

“You’re back, I see.”

He can’t remember if Kyungsoo had been following along with the news. Only some people really tune into regular superhero updates and speculations. They mostly rather focus on idol scandals and actor dramas.

But that’s getting away from the point. Jongin swallows, taking a step closer, trying to etch Kyungsoo’s face into memory, the way his brows are lowered, face guarded but curious.

"I need to tell you something…" With shaky fingers, Jongin carefully peels back the red mask, letting it fall and hang over his shoulders. He swallows nervously, trying to read anything from Kyungsoo’s face. “I understand — I am _beginning_ to understand… how you felt,” Jongin starts, cringing at how the words are coming out not at all like he had pictured. “How I hurt you, how… everything went wrong. You’re right that I’ve got this whole secret life I never told you about. I’m sorry. I want to understand more. I want to be part of your life. I want you to be part of mine, and for us to grow old together, and spend time together.” Why is this all jumbled, why can he not just be coherent, why is this so _hard_. “I know you don’t trust me, but this is the only thing I’ve ever kept from you. It was a really big thing. I’m so sorry. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

He trails off, embarrassed and anxious. That went terribly. He didn’t even explain anything.

“You know, you used to teleport into my room at night, in your sleep,” Kyungsoo says quietly, disrupting his self-deprecating thoughts. “Like back when we were fifteen or sixteen, I guess that's when you first got your powers. I’d wake up, and you’d be beside me, and I was _sure_ you didn’t stay over a few hours ago. For a while, I thought I was going crazy.” His voice grows more confident. “You’d ask me about color choices _constantly_ , and then the mysterious guy who had been saving people in our neighborhood who wore what looked a lot like my missing ski mask suddenly changed into a nice leather suit with those exact colors…”

Jongin chokes on air. “You knew. You've known all along.”

“Subtlety was never your strong suit. Besides, you really think I wouldn’t recognize my own husband?”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

At this, Kyungsoo looks away, down into his hands. “At first, I didn’t know what to say. It sounds dumb, but we were kids then, and I guess a part of me still doubted that it was real. And then, I guess another part, maybe a bigger part, was just like… maybe I’ll earn your trust, and you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me eventually. It was just… some side thing you did. You were Jongin most of the time, and just Kai on these short little bursts.”

He looks up, and they face each other, the short distance between them broadening, defying physics. Splintering.

Disentangling.

“And then time went on,” Kyungsoo continues, “and Kai grew more and more, and Jongin kind of just shriveled up into an alter ego, and... and us along with him. And by then, it was too late. I tried to hint, tried to ask questions. Tried provoking you into telling me the truth a few times. It was the wrong choice, probably. Should I have confronted you? Would that have saved us then? Would that have brought you back to me?”

He knew all this time. He knew every single time Jongin ever lied to his face that it was a bald faced lie. All the office anecdotes Jongin made up and rehearsed, all the late night work emergency excuses for missed dates. He stood there and held his tongue as Jongin sealed each lie with a cloy "I love you though."

Jongin reels from this revelation.

“I feel like, at the time, I resented you. I guess that’s what it was: resentment. For taking the person that I loved, for taking the life I was supposed to have, and making it into just a cover story. When it was all real for me. When you convinced me to bring a kid into it, when I never wanted kids.” He sniffles, eyes watering, visibly struggling to hold it back. "I thought I was... more than just an alibi."

“That’s not what you were to me at all,” Jongin says, stepping forward. Except he has doubt now. Maybe he did, unthinkingly.

“For what it’s worth…” Kyungsoo says, his eyes dulling as some thought consumes his attention. “I appreciate this. You telling me. I won’t tell anyone. I've— I've never told anyone."

He can’t bring himself to ask, to demand Kyungsoo yet again. But that’s why he’s here, isn’t it? One final confession, one last hail mary. There's no one else in the world for him, and this was supposed to be the last hurdle. "That's not what this was, Soo," he says weakly. The past tense. He didn't mean to say it in past tense, as if he just subconsciously accepted that they were indeed just that now. No.

Kyungsoo is looking at him, a sad, knowing look on his face. “The world needs Kai. Only I needed my best friend. Only Joohyun needs her dad. The whole world needs you more, so how could we be so selfish that we ask you to make equal time and space for just us, right? Do we… do we even have that right, when it comes to the greater good or whatever? But why did that have to be my destiny, though. You got to choose this. Nobody asked me. Why does the world ask me to be an emotional support doll, for you to come and find comfort and put away once you’re done. And Joohyun. She doesn’t deserve that either. We're worth more than that. But like, even if you saw us as more, if you saw us as some precious, rare treasures to protect, you just put us on a shelf to admire from time to time. Treasure that is claimed and shouldn't ask anything else of you. But we're not things. We’re real people. We’re flawed and needy, but we’re deserving of a real life too, greater good or otherwise.”

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Jongin says.

An even sadder smile. “I know,” Kyungsoo says.

Wait.

No. Wait.

“I can fix it though,” Jongin says, a rush coursing through his veins. “I can fix everything.”

“Jongin—”

“You said that if you could snap your fingers and undo all of the bad stuff, you would, right?” Jongin hurries out, tripping over his words in his excitement. “But it’s not impossible. I can.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can go through time. I don’t, because…” His cheeks warm at the utter vanity, the absurdity. “I don’t know, it was like… losing time. I’d be older and no one would notice, I guess? But I could do it. I could go back, before any of this went wrong. I could confess. You’ve known from the start. It would… it would fix everything, wouldn’t it?”

He can see the moment that understanding reaches Kyungsoo’s eyes. Only it’s not the reaction he was expecting. Kyungsoo's pupils shrink to mere dots. He looks… horrified?

"You can really do that?"

"I know I can."

It is a long time before Kyungsoo can bring himself to speak. "So you would go back. You'd confess. You would undo all of this."

"Yes!"

“...When?”

“Huh?”

“When would you go?” Kyungsoo sounds so weak, so small. He doesn’t understand.

“I could go… right now, I guess?” It makes sense. The quicker he leaves, the sooner they could fix everything.

Kyungsoo lunges a half step, skittish. “Is it safe?”

This feels so off. Jongin advances too, slowly. “Why are you crying?”

Kyungsoo has the most stricken look on his face, tears streaming, lost in thought for minutes before he refocuses on Jongin. He takes a few shaky breaths, shuddering afterward. “Can it please wait? A few days? Please.”

“Why not now?”

“I’m not ready—” Kyungsoo crumples before him, clutching his chest, and curling forward as a dry sob racks through him. “Please let me say goodbye before you go. I just... I need t-to—”

“What are you talking about?” Did he mishear? Does he not understand?

“It- It's a good plan. I hope you’ll be happy. I hope it works.”

“ _We’ll_ be happy.”

“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head so hard, a teardrop flicks off of his cheek. “But _you_ will be though. With some other Kyungsoo. And that's—”

“No, it’s _us_. It’s for both of us.”

“Jongin, I’ll still be here. I'm right here. I'm thirty-one. I'm an illustrator. I'm a father—” Kyungsoo’s lip quivers. “That’s okay. I don’t have anything to offer here. Just loneliness and hard work trying to co-parent a toddler. Just another broken marriage. So I get it. It’s… a good idea. It’s a chance for you to be happy… I- I have nothing to compete with that. I want you to be happy. Just… please be safe? And please tell me before you go.”

“I’m not _leaving_ , Soo! How are you ready to divorce me, but when I’m trying to fix this mess, you’re so upset right now?”

Kyungsoo grabs his forearms carefully. His fingers are cold and trembling. Moving them up the red leather, Kyungsoo tugs at the loose cowl, pulling it back up, adjusting the mask to fit into place, tucking errant hairs back under the fabric. His lip quivers. He pats over the hexagonal emblem on Jongin’s chest, resting the fingertips of both hands there, his eyes focusing on the metal etching. “I always wanted to tell you how proud I am. I-... I'm glad that I finally got to.”

He’s going about this all wrong. Jongin wouldn’t be leaving him behind. He would just jump to a time before things got bad. Then Kyungsoo never would have become so disenchanted in the first place. He never would’ve become… this Kyungsoo.

This Kyungsoo would cease to exist. Or he would to Jongin. Would he continue to exist without Jongin? Is that the fear? That… wouldn’t happen.

It wouldn’t… 

—

"Daddy, can you pick me up tomorrow too?"

"Of course, Joojoo." He motions for her to hurry up out of the carseat. "C'mon, I'm coming in too."

It’s only been a day, but it’s been a rather eventful day. Jongin’s been doing a lot of thinking. He picked up the rental this morning, and spent hours trying to deal with Seoul traffic. He's tired. Kyungsoo gives him an inquisitive look as he follows behind Joohyun. He sends their daughter off to her room, bargaining with a few minutes of screen time.

“New car?” Kyungsoo asks, once they’re alone in the living room.

“Rental. I’ll get the actual replacement in a week or so, I think.” He's gotta do some research. He wants to mention that it's not a silly convertible anymore, but Kyungsoo never even saw the other one in the first place, and this isn't really the right time to mention that. Not yet. He can see it in Kyungsoo’s eyes, the question. Jongin swallows and holds out the envelope for him to take.

“...Our divorce paperwork?” Kyungsoo looks very puzzled as he thumbs over the office's embossed logo. “I already have a copy.”

“I went to my lawyer this morning,” Jongin hurries out, wringing his hands nervously as Kyungsoo opens the envelope, pulling the papers out.

“You’re… asking for split custody…” Kyungsoo realizes slowly, reading over the first page.

“I left you behind once,” Jongin says, willing his heart to stop racing. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it, I just… I was self-absorbed. You made life a lot nicer for me, a lot more convenient. So I just took you for granted, and I didn’t pay attention to how it all happened. But I won’t leave you behind again.”

Kyungsoo’s lips part, but Jongin holds up his hand. Please, just let him amble through this. He can't structure his thoughts in the way Kyungsoo deserves, but he can at least lay everything out. 

“I know you don’t trust me. I know I’ve hurt you so much. I know there’s so much between us, but I _have_ changed. I’m not leaving. I’m here. I'm here even for the rough times. Even if it's all rough times and baggage. And I’ll show it to you: let me help with our daughter. She’s every bit my job as she is yours.”

“...You’re staying?” Kyungsoo says in awe, holding the packet out to him. “These are divorce papers… What am I supposed to see here, Jongin?”

“I still have to work,” Jongin continues in a flurry. “But it won't be forever. And you know what I’m doing. I can be here in a blink. I _will_ be there to help with her. I’d-… I’d prefer if we could hold off on submitting the papers to the court. It’s not collateral or a bribe or whatever. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s a promise, one way or the other - that I’ll be responsible. You see every bit of me now. You saw before, but… here I am… carrying no more secrets. Maybe this life isn't perfect, but I'll be here for it with you, because I really do love you. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry you had to walk this path alone for so long. I was so selfish. I- I _hope_ that… maybe one day, I can earn another chance. One last chance. In spite of everything, because we still deserve happiness together.”

It came out terribly, but he means it. That’s all he can hope for, that Kyungsoo can still sense his heart, even when his mouth fails. Just one last chance to show that he is still as devoted to Kyungsoo as ever, even _more so_. He won't just leave. Leaving, going back in time, would be replacing Kyungsoo with a younger, more naive copy. It would just be running away from the truth. It would be dishonoring his husband, not acknowledging all that Jongin had put him through, not respecting all the dedication, all the effort, all the sacrifice and pain Kyungsoo went through, for _him_ , in spite of everything Jongin did. This man, having gone through all that he has, still held Jongin in his heart, even if he has to keep him at arm's length for self-preservation. He deserves the world, even if all Jongin can give him is what he thought he had given at the beginning, what he had promised him as they said their vows. 

“You asked me what I think love is,” Jongin says quietly, knowing just how delicate the moment is before him. “I think loving someone is to see them at the highest resolution possible, to see every aspect in clearest detail, flaws and all. I think we’re all busy moving at our own speed, so they may catch our attention at first with some facet or other, but they’re not in focus. So we bring them into our orbit to gaze closely, and see them for what they are and keep them in our orbit anyway. I think that’s what love is. I knew I loved you when I was fifteen. The last few weeks together, I have only seen you more clearly. I love every part of you. Love isn't enough, but I _see_ that now, and I'm willing to fight for it. The best days of our lives don’t have to be behind us.”

Kyungsoo barks a laugh, sniveling afterward. “This is insane, Jongin.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” Jongin says. He's always been slow to warm up. It was supposedly cute and endearing when he was three, but at thirty, who has time for that bullshit though? Yet that's exactly what he's asking, for Kyungsoo to abandon reason and evidence and let him in once again. And the truly insane part is that... Kyungsoo looks like he's considering it. Hope. Hope growing. It could all be for naught. It could blow up in his face. What option is there other than to try? The long, messy way too. He can't abandon Kyungsoo again. No matter the outcome. “Just wait and see. Let me earn a consideration. That's it. That’s all I am asking.”

Looking at the plain manila envelope in his hands, Kyungsoo thins out his lips again, brows furrowing once more. He doesn't turn back up to make eye contact, but instead, breathes steadily through his nose as he ponders something inaccessible to Jongin.

Hope.

"Yeah," Kyungsoo says at long last, nodding for emphasis. His features soften, his posture, everything, surrenders to the idea. Their eyes connect once more. He looks so small, so vulnerable, a mirror of how Jongin feels at least. "Yeah, let's… start with that."


	3. Chapter 3

Twelve hour shifts aren’t meant to go by easily. By nature, it forces one to prioritize their time off. Eight hours is the prescribed sleep standard, but if you work twelve and you sleep eight, that leaves four hours of the day for anything else, for _everything_ else: commute, eating, bathroom breaks, socialization.

There's an old cliche about how crime never sleeps. It’s why police and emergency services must be available 24/7, and it’s why superheroes have the same, exhausting shifts.

Patrolling doesn’t demand twelve straight hours of nonstop action, though. Mostly, it’s some public appearances, reassuring the people that the good guys are still watching. Other times, it’s listening in on police scanners or waiting until dispatch sends them somewhere. Superheroes just have to be _readily available_ during that time. Before, that meant Jongin would laze around in the dorms, suit half on, watching Draw With Me videos or hopping around the planet, chasing the sun just enough to watch endless dusks. His rather unique powers allow him to be anywhere in an instant, so there is no need to restrict him to within a certain proximity. It allows him freedom. Freedom he always saw as just his own.

It’s still weird, letting go of it, even though that’s not what it is. It’s not surrendering his freedom. Freedom is his time as Jongin. Freedom is getting to choose how he spends it, and with whom. It’s not a matter of what is better, some binary thing where he can only have one choice. Within the same day, he can mindlessly tap through YouTube and sit with Kyungsoo on the couch, watching bad soap operas. He can even have time to read Joohyun a few bedtime stories and marvel at the way she manages to bargain for more, and _still_ have time to play basketball with Chanyeol and the others. It’s not that he can have it all, but that he properly enjoys and appreciates what he does have. Kai has consumed his entire identity. Kai is duty and pride, taken to such an extreme that it made him forget that being himself, that being _Jongin_ , being a husband and father and partner and friend, also requires the same responsibility and passion. He is lucky. He is _so_ lucky, no matter how this ends, that he was able to at least finally see, to step back, to reflect, and to _see_ it all.

Kyungsoo has been eyeing his bodysuit’s zipper for the past fifteen minutes. Here, with Joojoo safely asleep, Jongin doesn’t wear the mask, often leaves the suit hanging off of him. Leather is way too humid and sticky. Ventilation is key.

And distracting, he notes smugly. Subtly, he flexes his pecs.

Without looking, Kyungsoo reaches behind himself and grabs a pillow, tossing it square at Jongin’s face.

 _“Hey!”_ he whines.

Kyungsoo leans forward, tugging the zipper pull upward. “Tuck your titties away.”

“Why?”

Kyungsoo’s hand settles on his sternum. His fingertips are stroking the skin. Temptation. “Because you have three more hours to go, _Kai_.”

Maybe they shouldn’t be having sex again yet. But… it’s _Kyungsoo_ . As if Jongin could resist him when just the mere _sight_ of him… After his confession, they managed a whole week of abstinence. At the lowest parts of their separation, sex had been a hollow crutch, acting as a substitute for all the things they were no longer willing to give each other, and when that became too transparent to handle, it became excuses, snooze buttons from reality. It was a tenuous moment afterward, not sure if they would lapse back into the cycle or not, replacing quality time with sex again.

Not that sex isn’t quality time. It’s just… different. _More_ different now. It’s obviously not the same thing, but sex now is on the same wavelength as… a good movie, or cooking together, or a very spontaneous trip to the beach, courtesy of his powers. It’s the same mood as listening and watching Kyungsoo become so animated as he walks Jongin through a new prototype game with its preliminary rules and pieces. The same as getting home at the end of a hard day and having Kyungsoo baby him, petting his hair, letting him rant about frustrations during the shift, cuddling on the couch. It’s reconnecting in a way he’s never experienced before. It's still fun and light and passionate and easy and everything it had felt like before, but... richer. It’s enjoying each other’s company and presence, acknowledging that they are there for you, just for you.

Here, he is not interchangeable with any other human. But just as a person, not some superhero. Here, he is valued as he is. As Jongin. He had _always_ been valued as just Jongin here.

There is something so empowering about that. There are few things in life better than being seen and simultaneously understood. To feel a true connection with someone, it leaves him feeling both invincible and so vulnerable all at once. He can do anything, and yet there is so much at stake, so much to lose. Somewhere along the line, he had forgotten.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Jongin says, turning so he can slump into Kyungsoo’s side.

“When did I say you could stay over tonight?” Kyungsoo keeps his voice light. He’s joking, but that would’ve been apparent even without the extra effort. It’s a good reminder: his husband is kind.

“I was just gonna pop in,” Jongin retorts, layering on the smarmy tone. “Give kisses and leave, I guess.”

Kyungsoo’s lip shoots out into a devastating pout. He’s doing that thing with his eyes too, the doe eyed Soo look. Devastation.

“What?” Jongin asks innocently. Officially, they don’t live together yet. He still has his apartment, no doubt gaining sentience from all the decaying food forgotten there. The lease has a bit to go anyway. They’ve just been taking one day at a time, not making any big decisions, not having any big talks, appreciating the present. But they’ve also been together this whole time, minus some work hours on both of their parts, some personal time to keep from growing stagnant or claustrophobic. It's been like walking a tightrope, finding balance. But not alone. Not anymore. It's not easy, but he was ready for it to be so much harder. 

“Oh!” Kyungsoo pushes off of him to propel himself to standing, wandering off into the hallway. Jongin can hear a door open and shut, and then Kyungsoo is back, an envelope between his fingers, dropping it into Jongin’s lap.

He already knows what it is. Jongin looks at it, then up to Kyungsoo and back down, questions in his eyes. The new divorce papers. His heart stops. They haven’t really talked about it since that last dramatic fight. Things went from awkward to… kind of unusually domestic and perfect within the past few months. Dreamy, even. Kyungsoo was nearly in ecstasy when Jongin took him around the world the first time, a rainbow of sunsets reflecting in his eyes. They've shared dozens of sunsets since. He wanted to share thousands and thousands more.

He had hoped… that meant there would be no divorce at all… He had been working up courage to ask if Kyungsoo wanted to move back to Suncheon, Jongin's hometown, away from the bustle of big city life. Jongin can be here in a flash. He doesn't need to actually live here. It'd give him more peace of mind too, knowing his family is somewhere far away from all the excitement and danger. They had been doing so well. It stings, the thought of an official separation after all they've fought for recently. He will accept it. Had been prepared to accept it. He just... hoped.

“I’d actually been meaning to give this back to you a while ago,” Kyungsoo says, ears reddening. “I kind of… forgot about it.”

“What?” Jongin asks, nonplussed.

Kyungsoo gives him an annoyed look. It’s a playful look, as if chiding him for silliness. “Keeping it felt like holding the threat of divorce over your head to demand good behavior—”

“I—”

“I know that’s not what you’ve been doing. I know you don’t see it that way, but it felt weird for me to have it,” Kyungsoo presses on. “I really just forgot though.”

“You’ve been working really hard on your new project,” Jongin adds quietly. He breathes a massive sigh of relief. Love is the process, not the endgame. Love is so fragile. It’s so dynamic and so, so delicate. Maybe that’s what makes it so addictive, and in turn, so worthwhile. So easy to get wrong. His heart flutters. A chance, even after all this. Hope and relief swells so much, his chest aches. 

“So,” Kyungsoo pats the envelope for emphasis, “remember to save the planet, please, and drop that in the right recycling bin.”

“That was terrible,” Jongin groans at the joke.

“It was not. It was an apt and clever observation on both your job and the current state of our environment,” Kyungsoo argues.

Jongin sneers.

“Joojoo thinks I’m hilarious,” boasts his husband.

“Joojoo is five and thinks farts are the funniest thing in existence.” Jongin sneers, "Your fart jokes are better."

Kyungsoo isn’t going to let it go. He grabs the zipper pull again, tugging Jongin to him so their faces nearly touch. “ _You_ think I’m hilarious,” he challenges again, narrowing his eyes threateningly.

“I think you’re h—” Jongin draws the consonant out, a mock quiver in his voice. _“H— H—”_

The zipper inches down past his navel. He can feel Kyungsoo dip under, stroking over the thin hairs of his happy trail.

“ _Hot_ for me,” Jongin says, smirking, wagging his finger before the suit can reveal further. “Three more hours…”

Kyungsoo kisses him, stroking over his cheek with a thumb. “I’ll wait up for you.”

His wrist beeps. New dispatch orders. They both look down at it.

“Love you,” Jongin whispers, returning the kiss.

“Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a difficult thing for me to write. Primarily, because I'm trying to portray a real, adult relationship with all of its flaws, and those nuances would be SIMPLE to show in visual media, but in fic, it feels really weird to try and convey. I really, really hope it comes across well. Life is messy. We are born, and then we are exposed to the world, more so in some areas, less so in others. Some things come to us naturally, some things we're prepared for, and sometimes we fall flat on our faces, not even realizing we have done so. I'm proud of this though. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Scenes that didn't make the final cut due to fitting or time constraints: Uncle Hotman babysitting Joojoo while Kaisoo zipped off to have movie night on the other side of the world, because the movie Soo wanted to see hasn't opened in SK yet. Jongin forgetting his phone at the top of the Lotte World Tower. The Kaisoo family making another cooking video together. Jongin getting to live out his fantasy of roleplaying rescuing Soo and bringing him to a secluded mountainside for, ah, his reward. I owe my beta that scene, so I might have to add an additional epilogue for it. ♡
> 
>  _“There is no democracy in any love relation: only mercy.”_  
>  \-- Gillian Rose
> 
>  _"What are we supposed to do after all that we've been through, when everything that felt so right is wrong, now that the love is gone?"_  
>  \-- David Guetta
> 
>  _“The truth is that the more intimately you know someone, the more clearly you’ll see their flaws. That’s just the way it is. This is why marriages fail, why children are abandoned, why friendships don’t last. You might think you love someone until you see the way they act when they’re out of money or under pressure or hungry, for goodness’ sake. Love is something different. Love is choosing to serve someone and be with someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind, love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain and sacrifice, it’s seeing the darkness in another person and defying the impulse to jump ship.”_  
>  \-- This quote is often attributed to someone called The Great Kamryn. That's about all I can find on the person too, but whatever its origin, the quote is a good quote, and apt one.
> 
> [ _Frozone: Honey? Where's my super suit?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2qRDMHbXaM)


End file.
